Can I really be sure that the "me" I know is the real me? I'm not saying that the "me" I think of is fake, or an illusion. "I" definitely exist. But I think trying to define that "I" as a single, fixed thing — that's the illusion.
I am a collection of fragments of myself. To build my own world, I break apart the versions of myself that I shaped to fit other people, and piece the fragments back together. But those pieces will never form one perfect, complete shape. That's because I'm not trying to decide once and for all that "I am this kind of person." It's simply a process of getting to know myself more deeply, and making my direction as a person clearer.
The standard I use to break myself apart and put myself back together has to be me — not other people. If I keep shaping myself to match other people's words, reactions, and actions, I'll fall back into that emptiness. But then again — is the "me" I'm using as my standard still able to connect with the world around me? I shouldn't get so lost in my own world that I start defining other people however I want. I need to hold onto myself, while also making an effort to respect everyone else's own separate world.
Because so many different individuals of "I" exist in this world, and none of them can be pinned down to one single answer, this world is "meaningless." But within that meaninglessness, I actually feel free — free from the obsession with needing "meaning," free to simply exist as myself. Before, I used to read "meaningless" as "worthless." Now, I read it in a more positive way, as "freedom within uncertainty."
Note: Concluding that not feeling any meaning in life equals it being okay to die is far too binary. Having no reason to live doesn't amount to having a reason to die. If anything, this sense of emptiness is what allows me to reflect on life and find the drive to keep going.
A Life Shaped by Others: A Life That Can't Die
Death is uncertain. As long as we're alive, we can't experience it directly, and we can't even experience it secondhand. The one thing that is certain is that once you die, you can never come back to this world we live in. You would leave everything behind and face something completely unknown. So I think that no matter how much emptiness someone feels, part of what keeps them going, unable to die, is a kind of dependence on the things that are still here with them right now.
I dislike people, and at the same time, I like people. Family, someone I love, good friends around me, moments like that. I like being around people I really connect with. I like making a short bond with a kind stranger while traveling. It leaves good memories and fills me with a kind of emotional satisfaction. And beyond that, I want people to be happy because of me. There's a kind of happiness that comes from giving. So for a while, I thought that caring for others, making other people happy, was the meaning of my life.
But eventually, we part ways, and in the end, everyone ends up alone. It will be sad if the reason for my existence is other people instead of myself. I think what I need first is to make sure my own inner world is solid, with myself at the center.
A Life of My Own Choosing: Living in Order to Live
Like I've said throughout this, I don't want to pin down some fixed meaning or essence of life. For example, if the meaning of my life was playing an instrument, and I lost both hands in an accident, would I give up on life? At first, maybe I'd want to. But somehow I'd keep living, and I'd try to find some other meaning. And that meaning, too, could disappear someday — maybe even the very next day. I came to think that if you decide life has to have meaning, life turns into an endless chase for that meaning, and you end up depending on it. I didn't want meaning to be the thing controlling my life.
So I think it's okay to just leave life without a fixed meaning. If anything, this uncertainty is what frees me from the obsession with needing meaning. In this world that feels so uncertain, all I want to do is build a solid inner world for myself, so that I don't lose "myself," no matter the circumstances. Of course, I do respect what meaning other people find in their own lives.