Existence, Anxiety and Dying: A Monologue

Trigger Warning: Mention of Dying, Anxiety, Loneliness, Suicidal Thoughts

Reader’s discretion is advised.

Much has been said and shared along the lines of the new epidemic called loneliness.

Almost all of us have felt it at some point in our lives, and for many it’s a constant struggle or rather a buddy who lives with us, let’s us feel good and happy and full sometimes while lurking like a black shadowy blanket on most other days and nights.

The hard part about it though isn’t loneliness itself but its best friend that almost always tags along by it, the suicidal thoughts that lead to us contemplating an alternative reality in which we have the option to cease to exist. To cease to matter. To cease to breathe. And for once not have to live with the burden or ‘anxiety’ of having to think over what our tomorrow might be like.

I don’t blame myself too much about this anymore. About contemplating suicide. About fantasizing over a world without me in it. About taking the burden away from my hunched shoulders.

Burden to go on despite having realised the pointlessness of it all.

Burden to laugh, smile, cry, feel, think and most troublesome among all, the burden to put what you are thinking in words, i.e to talk.

I don’t feel like talking anymore. Maybe because I don’t have the energy to or because I have learnt that talking translates the intangible, unspoken feelings and strings of reflections in my head to a very tangible form; of words.

Talking brings my whole existence down to a few sentences, that never end up doing justice to the universe full of unformed words and thoughts in my head. That are truly only mine. That I don’t necessarily have to share with the world.

Talking actually isn’t as good as how it’s usually made to be in the mainstream.

And as I am growing up, I am more and more convinced that staying silent is a much more fulfilling experience than talking.

My therapist asked me a question very recently to which I did not have an answer.

She asked me, in moments of extreme anxiety, of the most horrifying symptoms of chest pain, heart palpitations, anger etc. what is it that I feel I really need?

I still don’t have an answer to that. I am still searching my head and heart. I think it’s one of the most difficult questions anyone has ever asked me until now.

Why is it so easy to want something that you don’t necessarily need but so very hard to know what you really, really need, at the most core of your existence?

I am not talking about the endless labyrinth of humankind’s desires here, I am only talking about the core emotional and physical needs of a human being that have hardly to do anything about material possessions but everything to do with fulfilling emotions, of feelings, of love; in life.

But coming back to those who decide to kill themselves, isn’t it the one thing that they really wanted to do and they succeeded in doing it?

Isn’t amidst matters such as not having any agency over your life, over where and to whom you were born, over the circumstances in which you find yourself growing up etc. the one thing you truly did as you wished to was to decide to not exist anymore?

But don’t get me wrong. It isn’t same as not liking who I am or the world. I love who I am. I love the world. I love most things about it. And yet I don’t find any point in living on. I don’t find any point in marrying, rearing children, taking care of them and yourself till the end while also being entangled with ‘work’ in a capitalist world that is really no measure or indication of what I like doing or even what I am good at doing.

It’s as though your years are laid out in front of you in uninteresting, gray, flaccid manner that has no essence. No purpose. No bigger perspective. No meaning. No point, like I said.

So even while knowing all of this, why do so many people still go on?

Still decide to live on?

I know I am presenting a rather queer way of looking at life but borrowing theories from Darwin, we are all mutable biological species who go on reproducing, evolving blindly with little regard to the ‘higher purpose’ or ‘the supreme one’.

We’ve all learnt about Darwin’s Survival of the fittest and Natural Selection theories. We’ve all learnt about genocides, ethnic cleansing and racial erasure in human history not too long ago.

We’ve all learnt and read and parroted those fragments of history on examination answer papers and passed them with flying colors.

But how much of what we’ve read, have we also sat down and processed at any rate?

How deep have you sat and dug into the point of our existence. How much have you sat with the works of Jean Paul Sartre, Nietzsche or Freud?

How much with Adrienne Rich or Simone De Beauvoir?

How many suns have you seen rising and setting in front of your eyes that remind you of the smallness of you in the universe.

How many poetries have you read or scribbled away thinking about inexplicable feelings?

How many times did you survive just with the help of some soothing music, the serenity of nature, comfort in a loved one’s voice, or perhaps any amount of induced intoxication to keep you from feeling anything at all?

To go as farther away from reality as was possible?

And when you think about the government, it’s exploitative institutions that are presented as altruistic projects, people who go by the name of liberals or conservatives but are really just privileged oppressors who don’t care an iota about those at whose expense their privileges are derived from;

When you think about sex and love making, about your sexuality and gender, about colors of rainbow and LGBT+, why do you feel terror?

Why is being different, so terrifying to those who have been mended and successfully boxed into binaries?

Why is non binary, fluidity, blackness, plus size bodies, neuro divergence, disabilities, dysphoria etc so repelling to the rulers?

Why is the left, the idea of equality of opportunities and outcome and dismantling every kind of hierarchy so scary to those who’ve ruled for thousands of years?

To me dying is both personal and political. It is both social and institutional.

Dying is liberating from the endless chaos born out of understanding, realisation and reaching a saturation point.

Dying is an end to the unbearable present.

Dying is a revolution.

Dying is power.

Dying is ending something intolerable.

To die is to say No.

To die is to practice consent.

To die is to uphold your agency over your own life.

‘A bitter ending is better than a bitter life’, I think I heard that being said in a movie I watched recently and sometimes it resonates far too much.

To the point of exhaustion. To the point of mirage. To the point beyond which we know nothing about. Atleast, not yet. And that absence of knowledge of that other world is both terrifyingly beautiful and remarkably attractive at times. Perhaps we’ll talk about it another time. Another day. I’ll leave you now. To rest.


Thoughts are beautiful, much more beautiful when unspoken and only felt. When mulled over and left ajar. Sometimes forever. Sometimes for a little while.

And for that very reason, I don’t write as much as I used to. And when I do, I don’t end up posting it. And I perhaps like it this way.

These thoughts, the monologue, theories and thesis are all part of a very very personal dialogue that I have with myself regularly. It isn’t meant to be shared or read by anyone other than me. But I did share a tiny part of it today because I know it’s not just me who has felt loneliness and desire to end our lives under heaps of piled up anxiety and hopelessness. It is more common than we’re told and if my therapist is to be believed, it’s very natural for our bodies to feel what I feel.

This piece isn’t meant to invoke fear in the hearts of loved ones about my safety. I am in a good place right now. Far from being suicidal. Working on doing my tiny bit in causing the endless ripples of revolution that’s going on. It all feels good and comfortable and sometimes happy even.

It was written neither to cause more anxiety and terror in reader’s hearts and minds. And I am sorry if it caused any to you. I just meant to tell you that it’s okay. That we are all in this together. And that we are all ‘lonely together’. 🙂

Strength and Love 🌼

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