(This person is an acquaintance. I don’t know him very well. Somehow, one night, we started a conversation initiated by some schoolwork. Sooner than I knew, this conversation went on a completely different track and ended up affecting me in a special way. I just want to post this, somewhere it will stay safe. )
Stranger: I don’t “like” her.
Me: Whatever. “Infatuated”
Stranger: Nope. It’s like, when you look at a graphics card. And then you realize that meh you don’t have enough supporting software.
Me: I get it. But sometimes, don’t you just want a person to care about you? Someone who will do anything just to make you happy? Someone who keeps you in their first circle of people.
Stranger: I have that. I hate it.
Me: Hate it?
Stranger: I consider it my moral responsibility to get her to stop liking me.
Me: Not liking, man. Everything. Anything. Friends, siblings, whatever.
Stranger: Psychological need for attachment. Is that what you mean?
Me: Yeah. I constantly feel, alone. Everyone has their person. I don’t.
Stranger: In all fairness, you don’t really branch out.
Me: I try to. But, at times like this. Right now, It’s 12. And I’m alone.
Stranger: Just think about the fact that thinking about this won’t get you anyone.
Me: Yeah. But don’t you sometimes want to start over? Start a new life? Where you don’t make mistakes?
Stranger: Try as you might, you can never completely make peace with your past.
Me: Life has good and bad things, yeah. But don’t the good have to outweigh the bad to make it worth living?
Stranger: It never does on the planet as a closed system.
Me: It doesn’t for me.
Stranger: See if you follow this logic, atleast eighty percent of people you know will kill themselves.
Me: I might too. What’s the point to do things? To work. To try. When it will never make you happy?
Stranger: There isn’t one.
Me: And there will always be something worse.
Stranger: Congratulations, Dwija. You now understand the purpose of human existence. There is none.
Me: Existence is bullshit. A pile of bullshit. Not living sounds like peace.
Stranger: Do whatever makes you happy. You have to make life worth it.
Me: What if nothing makes you happy? Human existence is worthless. It’ll never be what I want it to be.
Stranger: Not in pure form. Our society has made it such.
Me: Tell me then, what is the reason you wake up in the morning?
Stranger: Because I have to. I have to brave this shit to do what I want to do. You have to climb a certain height on the same ugly ladder as everyone else before you can go on a different track.
Me: I don’t want to. Not climbing the ladder seems better. Or maybe jump off the already high rung I stand.
Stranger: If you die, what’s the point? Think of it this way. You were born in this prison. You can either give up forever. Or you can escape.
Me: I’d give up.
Stranger: Twenty years. For the next sixty. It IS worth it.
Me: That’s where I disagree. If I’m not happy now, it’s not worth it. Sadness is increasing, in proportion to me getting closer to freedom.
Stranger: Cross the finish point, then.
Me: The question is, will I want to, after the race?
Me: I’m curious. What will happen if tomorrow, I’m found hanging from my ceiling. I ponder. A lot.
Me: Sleep doesn’t come easily to me. But seriously though. If I had a medium, I would do it. Right now. I don’t have a medium.
Stranger: SLEEP. NOW.
(The person, then, promptly logged off. I was left staring at my phone screen. Shaking. I didn’t know where to go and what to do from there. Where would you have gone? What would you have done? )