There is something so futile about life.

Something hopeless. Numbing. No wonder we spend so much time philosophizing and exploring and creating religion. We extract as much meaning out life as we can because we can’t seem to face the fact that there may be no meaning at all. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it recently, the meaninglessness of life. To me, my life is everything I’ve ever known. But to the stranger next to me on the campus bus, my life means absolutely nothing. I am tied down by feelings of regret and loneliness and misery for things I can’t control, and she will never know about them. Chances are, she lugs around her own baggage, and I will never know about it. We all go through life only knowing what we know and not knowing what everyone else knows, and we hope to God that with our limited perception of the world, we can still make an impact on others and make happiness for ourselves. The cards are not stacked in our favor. The older I get, the more pain and hurt I see in the world, in my friends, in myself, and it gets harder and harder to get up every morning and live a fulfilled, un-wasted day. I am simply overwhelmed by the vast negativity that clouds our paths to the Happy Life. What is the point of trying to do good if I can’t prevent every single bad along the way? It’s futile. But I think it’s beautiful.

I’ve done my time hating the fact that nothing in life really matters. I’ve sat in bed and stared at a wall for hours contemplating why I should bother existing if my existence will never sum up to more than a blip in the universe. I’ve pondered to the brink of insanity, I’ve sobbed my tear glands dry, and I’ve decided that there is a better way to approach this grim worldly truth. Nothing matters! My insecurities are fabrications of a toxic mind and a toxic society! My sadness is just a series of chemical concoctions in my brain that will, in time, either subside or end me! Either way, who cares! Life is meaningless! My unhealthy relationship with food, the way people treat me because of my race or gender or sexuality, the time I tripped and fell face first on the stairs in front of everybody at school, literally none of it matters if I don’t let it affect my happiness. For now, I’m alive, I am young and able-bodied, and I have complete control over what matters in my life. I now see the desolate landscape of meaningless to be liberating, because I get to construct my own beautiful meaning amidst the wasteland. If I want to eat the cookie, I will, because it brings me joy. If I want to sit and cry while I blast sad tunes and watch the sun set in a Target parking lot, I will, because it’s cheaper than therapy. If I want to cancel plans one day because I cannot summon the energy for social interaction, I will, because that’s what will bring me the most peace in that moment. There is so much noise constantly telling us right from wrong, good from bad, but if you let that buzz dissipate into the background, you’re left only with the voice in your head, your purest, unfiltered expression of desire. There is no point throwing your slipping years away to never-ending but ever-changing societal demands.

Of course, balance must be maintained. This mindset can quickly become nihilistic and socially destructive if not taken in moderation. You may not have any obligations to the larger society, but you are still tied to the people around you, and it’s important to consider their happiness as well. Personally, bringing happiness to the people around me is what brings me the most happiness, so I do take time to check up on my friends, spend time with family, and be a generally considerate and open-minded individual. Just because nothing in life matters doesn’t mean basic human decency doesn’t apply, that you have a right to impede on the wellbeing of others. It just means everyone has their own right to decide what in their life matters. My point is that I’m tired of letting society dictate what will bring me happiness. Nobody really gives a shit, so why should I? I’m a mere dot in a complex pointillism masterpiece. Whether I’m there or not, and what I do in the case of my presence, doesn’t drastically affect the bigger picture. When I am not completely consumed with the significance of my own being, the flaws in my existence are nothing, and the peaks of my existence become everything. That is the beauty of a futile reality.

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk.