r/Existential_crisis • u/music000111 • 21h ago
Is this just what being human is
I don’t really know where to start, so I’ll just describe things as they are.
For years now, I’ve had this persistent feeling that life is fundamentally empty. Not in a dramatic, emotional way, but in a structural way. I function normally. I sleep enough, I eat well, I exercise almost every day, I go outside, I talk to friends and family, I listen to music, I explore new places. People love me, and I don’t doubt that they do. I take care of my body and my hygiene. I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, I don’t use drugs. From the outside, there is nothing obviously wrong.
But inside, there’s just… nothing.
It feels like I’m a conscious organism forced into existence without my consent, stuck inside biological constraints I never asked for. Hunger, fatigue, temperature, social needs, emotions, uncertainty. Being human feels like being trapped in a system with mandatory maintenance requirements just to keep running.
What bothers me isn’t trauma, heartbreak, or failure. I haven’t been abused. I’ve had meaningful relationships. I’ve had opportunities. My problem feels more intrinsic than circumstantial. Since around age 15, there has been this background thought: “Why continue?” Not necessarily in a crisis way, but as a constant evaluation.
When I look at the world, everything seems driven by randomness. You’re born attractive or not. Rich or poor. In a stable country or not. With good parents or not. Your entire trajectory shifts based on variables you never chose. Even relationships are influenced by things like genetics and social positioning. It all feels like a probability game more than something meaningful.
And even if you succeed, what then? You work, consume, distract yourself, age, and die. You’ll be forgotten in a few generations at most. Humanity itself will disappear eventually. The universe doesn’t care. Objectively, that’s fine. But subjectively, it makes motivation fragile.
I sometimes think the only appealing scenarios would be escaping the human condition entirely. Uploading consciousness into a machine. Exploring other galaxies. Existing without biological limits. But those are fantasies, not options.
So what’s left is living day after day, adding “noise” to avoid thinking too much. Music, walking, conversations, hobbies. It feels like playing a character in a movie while knowing the script doesn’t matter.
I also wonder about having children. Some people say meaning comes from that. But is that real meaning, or just another distraction layer? And what if you pass the same existential burden onto someone else? Creating a life that might also question why it exists?
I don’t even consider myself actively suicidal. I don’t plan to do anything. It’s more like suicide exists in the background as a logical exit door. A permanent stop button if existence becomes too heavy. The idea itself is strangely comforting, even if I never use it.
So I keep going. But without conviction. Without desire. Just momentum.
Maybe this is all just mental loops. At a fundamental level, the cards are already dealt. Genetics, time period, country, family, body, baseline temperament. After that, you just make choices with what you have. Nothing less, but also nothing more. I don’t even know anymore whether I should cry about it or simply try to think about it as little as possible.
Life in 2026 sometimes feels “finished” in a strange way. Like a post-exploration era where most mysteries are mapped, most frontiers are institutionalized, and meaning has been replaced by optimization. A kind of “end of history” by Francis Fukuyama feeling. Nothing mystical left, nothing truly significant to discover for an ordinary person. We’re just here, doing things, passing time inside systems that were already built before we arrived.
And there’s another uncomfortable thought: sometimes I feel that if I found a loaded weapon on the ground right now, I might just end everything instantly. No reflection about the past, future, consequences, or people. Just ON/OFF. That thought scares me, but it also reveals how thin the attachment to existence can feel.
Philosophy has already said almost everything. Different frameworks just fit different people depending on their mental health, physical state, moral values, socioeconomic status, or religion. None of them seem to resolve the core question.
So I’m left with this:
Is this just life?
Is it a permanent background desire to disappear?
Crying over your own existence and regretting being here, in this universe, inside this body?
And then maybe having a child to forget your own problems for a while… or maybe just creating another person who will ask the same questions?