Coming Clean with My Origin with Philosophizing

Look, in this article, I will try to be frank about one of my darkest times; A bitter, despicable period in my life that is one of the few that makes me feel reluctant to convey to the world. I didn't like life back then, and I don't remember why. Maybe it was because I was obsessed with the idea of an afterlife and tried to imagine how it feels when one's consciousness ends, assuming it will.

I remember reading regularly published articles in English about some strangers who claimed that they had died before and returned to life through mystical means, but I don't really remember exactly how.

However, I was very amused by the possibility, of seeking something new. I remember believing in demons and reading a satirical article where it was joked that some scientists killed themselves, and other scientists, waiting for the first group to return and tell them what it was like on the other side.

Amused by the thought experiment, I wondered what would've happened if I ceased to exist, and what would happen to my consciousness after my physical death. The other side was fascinating to me because it is arguably, completely unknown, and even though it is a common occurrence, to die, it is still very difficult to determine what lies afterwards, if anything happens at all.

What happens to one's mind when the body ceases to function? How, empirically, does the mind react when the body stops functioning completely? These philosophical questions... I don't want to elaborate further, this time. Maybe I'll never have the audacity.

I was eventually diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome, a term that doesn't exist officially nowadays, and it was thanks to that revelation that I slowly began to realize that I am a flawed being, maybe more than others, to the point where I needed social security to survive.

This lack of self-awareness eventually led me to regularly discuss things with my "former master", a philosophy professor, and even though I don't remember much of our conversations, I do remember that he helped me a lot using the art of philosophizing. I have no idea how my life would've turned out if it weren't for his insight and logic.

That same virtue that made me desire life once again, is something I wish to donate to the world as well. I wish people would be more willing to give up on bringing themselves closer to their end, because as long as one lives, there is some potential to be achieved.

I want to try and help people see greater clarity, like the professor has shown me, as a token of gratitude, for a life that could've turned out, otherwise. To see people, benefit from philosophizing is a reminder of myself back then; a memory I wish to grant to others as well.

The idea of death fascinates me still, but only theoretically. The time will come eventually, but that doesn't mean I should hasten its arrival just to see what it's like. The time between birth and death is a period of potential that can be greatly unleashed if we're to survive long enough and get the necessary resources to do things.

National Service at the time also reminded me of that repressed fascination, but only because I wanted my newly discovered fatigue to finally end. It was impossible to predict that I have chronic fatigue, and it was too hard for me to just slack off on the job.

I really wanted to continue, but I couldn't take anymore, of the great fatigue that resulted from regular work at an office. After I left the service, it was practically revealed to me that too much fatigue affects my ability to physically navigate. I'm glad I thought about the idea of having a cane, as it made me a little more independent, despite being in my mid-20s.

Philosophy is my personal escape from existence. Life is tiring even though I don't do much, is mostly devoid of friendship, and is frustrating because I can't resume my academic studies. I use it to justify my existence because it did just that — give me a greater interest in being alive, despite the decreasing possibilities.

It was thanks to the "vibes" I received long ago, from my former master, that I realized that life is wonderful as long as there's potential to achieve, at least in my eyes. Maybe I'm too naive when I say this, but I really can't imagine myself without being able to philosophize, or without sharing my insights with the world.

I could've done other things instead if it weren't for chronic fatigue! I went on extremely long walks, was capable of reading plenty of books, and studied for at least one philosophy degree.

But much was taken away by a sudden medical condition no one could've predicted or permanently cured! People are of course allowed to minimize philosophy as long as they want; I can testify that my life could've been a lot worse if it weren't for this wonderful way to learn about existence, and attempt to justify it, as well!

I see people on Quora, questioning the worth of their existence, and, at times, treating it as if it were worthy of great disposability. Why do I combine philosophizing with life itself so much? To make it more relevant, to try and convince people, to not take the path I myself could've chosen! As long as I can write coherently, I don't mind my chronic fatigue as much. Why?

Because even when I'm not out of my apartment for weeks, I can still influence the world and leave my mark on it. Such a display of potential, possible through writing and philosophizing, is the only thing I truly feel proud of.

Every other accomplishment, while elementary, is too basic to reconsider, when I have the power to be read by many across the planet and try leaving the same mark my former master left on me!

And why is potential that important, you might ask? Because not only are we not aware of its full existence, but of course, we can use it, to expand the capacity of potential in others. That can be done by successfully convincing them to be farther from the inevitable doom of the other side.

Potential is essentially chance; the likelihood of something happening because of one or a set of decisions. Some are more probable, some are not; some are beneficial, some are the exact opposite. Greater benefit means the potential actualization of many/all, and actualization is a great source of self-justification once fully realized by the person.

So, when that ungrateful, former love interest, called me irrelevant, it was then that I was revealed to have the ability to extend my sphere of potential to far greater lengths. However, it also brought me back to that repressed time. A combination of frustration and ambition made me abnormally want to show the whole world that she's wrong!

...If she was/is correct, then what is the point of my existence, and what is the point of all my struggles, to avoid my repressed desire for the other side? Am I wasting my time and energies, believing that life has any meaning that exceeds my own thoughts?

I fear nihilism, or the rejection of any objective meaning and morality, because it would mean, that one's potential is essentially a waste, like everything and everyone, theoretically is! Waste is illogical to consider significantly!

Waste of time, energy, and other investments in play! If everything is a waste, then the desire to live is also a waste; the desire to endure, to survive from day to day, from pain to pain.

Her word returned me to that dark time in my life, a time before I met the professor in question. For reminding me of that, I slowly began losing my desire for most forms of love, and instead, I grew hungry with a desire for retribution.

Retribution for deeming me a waste; retribution for deeming my efforts away from death, a waste! And all because of an emotion I did not intend to do anything with, but simply reveal like a truth-seeker would. Was that emotion that bad, I wonder? Was it too bad, to deem me meaningless, worthless? I refuse to forgive you for reminding me of the darker times, even if unintentionally.

...and those who wish to read me, could regard themselves as evidence, that philosophy can still be important in general, as it is, to me. Let's not deem our existence irrelevant, where there could be much potential to achieve, as long as we live.