On the Need to Leave an Impact

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My childhood was a very happy one. I played video games for years on end and did not have a care in the world.... Until the moment the emptiness began chewing in. I felt a need to leave an impact, and it is a need I only managed to fulfil in my adulthood.

I remember telling my mother I have no life, and she was astounded by my grim philosophical insights. I told her how, after studying astronomy by myself, that we are tiny insignificant creatures, like ants, and how the void is big compared to humanity.

My mother wanted me to stop because I began scaring her with all of these philosophical insights on the insignificance of humanity.

I always knew how insignificant I, as a human, really am. I am small compared to the Earth, and the Earth is small compared to the solar system. We are just small ants who really think they are objectively significant.

But I knew that we are not as significant as we see ourselves. This understanding left me hollow as a child, and all I wanted to do was to do something meaningful that will leave an impact on the world, so I won't feel as insignificant a human I objectively am.

Being a mere child, facing existential crisis, there was very little I could do to leave an impact, so I fell into depression, 20 years ago, as I wanted to do something extraordinary, but didn't have the means to do it.

Now as an adult, I keep on working on this empire of articles because that helps me fill in the emptiness that started 20 years ago, when I faced existential crisis as a child.

The void never leaves entirely. The void accompanied me ever since my initial existential crisis. Ever since the void began bothering me, life began being hard, as I experienced this void in many aspects of life.

One of the reasons I am a solitary ascetic is because I perceive void in social interactions. Ever since I had my existential crisis, social interactions were never the same. In elementary school I already discarded a lot of friends I used to have because interacting with them felt useless. I also had to guard my mother, but I digress.

This void is what makes me special as an individual. It is hard to comprehend me because most people don't necessarily feel this giant void within them. I do, ever since the 2000's. Life has been hard as a result. I was depressed and nothing rarely gave me satisfaction.

I passed high school with flying colors and I was supposed to be a philosophy professor in university, until I sabotaged my life. The reason? Social interactions. I just couldn't bear the vain-ess of teachers socializing with students there. I just couldn't. It's the same degree of hardship I experienced back in high school, when teachers socialized with students there as well.

Ever since childhood, the need to leave an impact accompanied me to this very day. Leaving an impact on people's lives is how the void within me vanishes, and so I get to feel fulfilled just like the days of before the existential crisis.

I feel gratification writing because I know this legacy of Philosocom is going to last for long. This is what makes me feel happier, and the void, less heavy.

I know this age of AI, where its rapid development renders writers irrelevant, renders also websites not as visited. However, I don't care. I just don't. My need to fill in the void exists irrespective of AI, and so Philosocom endures regardless of the rapid AI revolution, which replaces writers above all other professions and occupations.

This void within me compelled me to help a lot of people and save lives from the pit of despair. Had I not felt compelled to leave an impact, several people would probably end up dead.

There must be a higher reasoning as to why I feel this deep emptiness within me. The emptiness doesn't exist in a vacuum. This emptiness within me has the power to transform and change entire lives, has the potential to leave a truly enduring impact on the world.

And so, like Sisyphus, I lift the stone of productivity up the mountain of life, until the time it falls off, and then I feel insanely empty again.

Sometimes, I wish the void will disappear completely, so I will be happy. But it doesn't. No matter how many lives I saved, how many people I helped, the void just enters again, rendering my sacrifice irrelevant in my subjective experience of the world.

But it doesn't. It just doesn't. It remorselessly goes back, and makes me feel a deep desire to leave an impact once more.

Why? Because I am well aware of the fact that we are just tiny insignificant creatures compared to the larger universe we're in. The fact is as clear as day to me. I am aware, and yet cannot accept it. Accepting it would be defeatism. Just because we're tiny and insignificant beings compared to the universe, doesn't mean we cannot leave an impact.

I already left an impact in people's lives, but I am young, and I see that as a fault, not as a virtue. I see it as a fault because I still have so much time left. Despite everything I did, life is still ahead of me. And I hate it. I really do. I hate being young, for I am old in my mentality. I am a traditionalist who struggles keeping up with the rapid times of the godlike technology humanity has been catering to. I am more of an old stubborn man within the body of a young man.

I see on YouTube the Sudanese sword artisans, and I am filled with inspiration. I see the biography of the character Lau Chan of Virtua Fighter, who dedicated his entire life to mastering a single martial art, and I am filled with inspiration. These are the very few things that help me feel alive, that ignite some spark within me, beyond the world of love.

I see myself like a consistent drop of water, carving up its own unique path in an old, stern rock. The more I persist in my way, the more the void goes away.

And I am filled with true satisfaction, that lasts only for a while, until it returns back again. I feel trapped, imprisoned, with the consistent desire to leave an impact, the only thing outside love that makes me feel alive.

And rectifying people in my own terms is how I leave that impact. The fallen trend of blogs in face of AI doesn't matter to me.

With my keyboard and with my art I persevere, as the Ruler of Philosocom, as I do what I like to do the most: Contribute to you. It's the only thing that makes me feel alive outside love.

And I love it. I love to feel alive. To write something of depth, and to provide it, is what gratifies me so much. I just wish these feelings would last forever, but they do not. So I am back to writing yet again, looking for the next rush of gratification.

I don't want to accept the void in utter defeatism. Instead I choose to employ it in my quest for contribution and gratification. I have a deep, psychological need to leave an impact in people's lives, and I do just that.

I saved people, I helped people, but no matter what, this feeling of void, like an unwelcome guest, will keep invading me, as I keep isolating myself from the world, wanting nothing to do with it beyond my online contributions to it, and beyond the necessary evil of survival.

Because I refuse to be a tiny insignificant human in the universe. I can't bear it. I just can't. I am disabled for my unique potential to succeed in writing makes me feel I need to do something great for as long as I can.

It is not arrogance, but the need to contribute to you. It's not narcissism, but the need to leave a long, enduring impact on this world which I have forsaken in the name of good.

And I write and write like a lone swordsman who cuts hordes of demons again and again, until at the very last satisfaction is reached, but for as long as that satisfaction is not reached, I just keep at it no matter in what state I am or what is the state of the internet.

I know much of the internet is dead, making way for bots. I know websites are irrelevant, but I don't have the heartlessness within me that is called keeping up with the times. I don't have the heartlessness within me to give up on the need to leave an impact under my own terms. I am too heartful to partake in society, so I spare society of myself, because my need to be accomplished is ravenous and takes every good bit of normalcy.

I don't want to be happy, I want to be satisfied in the impact I make, and what other impact is bigger than creating a massive empire of articles to last throughout the ages?

All I want is to contribute. That is the reason I keep on going online. That is the reason I helped and saved people. My desire for relevance fuels me because it is the only thing that keeps this annoying void away from me.

There must, must be a higher reasoning for this. My void exists in the name of unrelenting altruism. In the name of helping even more people, and as long as I am empty inside, my void will still compel me to write.

There is no stopping this maddening void. There is only delaying it until the next time it arrives. Such existence is hard and tragic, but I boldly persevere, never giving in to the defeatism and uselessness that comes from the existential understanding that we are just tiny insignificant creatures!!!!

And I will write and write and write and write until the void is gone! Look how much I need to write to make this void go away! There must be a reason why it exists that goes beyond just myself! Who knows who will pick this article up, read it, and feel inspired to do something great?

That is exactly why I believe this void doesn't exist for nothing, and my need to leave an impact doesn't exist for nothing. As detached as I appear, people will read this eventually, people will need this eventually, during some point in the future. And this future will become history, my history, the history which I carve in the form of Philosocom.

And at long last the void is gone. It feels like a giant creature sitting on my chest. I feel lighter, writing this article; lighter as a feather, and not as heavy to the point breathing is hard. I need this. I need to write, for my sanity, for the void to go away, I need this more than I need social interactions, more than I need friends.

Once all the people in my life will be gone, in 30, 40 years, I will be left alone with the same void that gnaws on me, and I will just keep on writing as usual. Death doesn't startle me, I accept death for death is inevitable, and I know that my solitude is inevitable as well.

I will just keep being a philosophical Sisyphus and Azazel, sacrificing much of my time and internet on writing and writing and writing and writing.

I need to leave an impact so I must leave an impact. This isn't a delusion of necessity but a necessity that helps me function in life. Who knows, there might be a higher reasoning for everything and everyone, and my purpose in this life, to rectify this world using my articles, is unique, for I am cursed with a deep void unlike any other.

I want it away. I want it to keep it away from me. Otherwise existence feels like a burden, and I am looking for a way out of the burdensome nature of this void within me. I seek freedom, but I presume this freedom will be accessible to me only in my death.

But I refuse to die just yet. I have my whole life ahead of me, despite of all the work I did.

It means, that more work is to be done, as a result... Far, far, far more work than I did already!

Like an unrelenting warrior I will hold firm my sword as I continue slashing away the void within me via writing. And I will keep helping people via my writing, and I will keep doing it with great determination because it is the only way out of the void, leaving an impact will be the sword that will set me free from the burdensome chains of the void.

And only then, only when I am finally free from this void, is where I will know happiness in my cursed existence which I perceive as empty. Only love and working on Philosocom gratify me from the void, so I keep at it, keep at it, hoping one day to finally be set free from the suffering of the deep hole inside of me.