[1] Holding a Reflection on My Own Existence

From a young age, there was always a certain emptiness wrapped around me. Something unnamed, circling me like rings around a planet. A strangeness about myself I could never quite put into words, and an awareness of that strangeness that never left me.

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Holding a Reflection on My Own Existence
Holding a Reflection on My Own Existence

1 . The Emptiness That Circles Me


From a young age, there was always a certain emptiness wrapped around me. Something unnamed, circling me like rings around a planet. To fill that nameless hollow, or to wish it gone, sometimes even to part ways with it entirely, I found myself endlessly thinking, trying to understand what it truly was.

It was always there. A strangeness about myself I could never quite put into words, and an awareness of that strangeness that never left me. Living within that unbridgeable gap was often painful. And yet, at the same time, it was also the very thing that set me apart from others—the quiet voice that sometimes allowed me to say, "This is me."

The quiet certainty that no one would ever understand this part of me became a kind of wall. It stood in the way of forming relationships. The belief that "no one will understand me" grew stronger the more I held onto it. That wall, impossible as it seemed to cross, was one I had built myself.

Then one day, I realized this might be something that wasn't meant to disappear. A kind of intuition about my own existence. Recognition of who I am, and an acceptance I could no longer refuse. I began to understand myself better, and that understanding deepened into self-acceptance. Like suddenly realizing, "Ah, this is the kind of person I am."


(Listen to this soundtrack while you read to immerse yourself deeper into the reflection.)


2. Accepting Myself as I Am


Now, I no longer wish to struggle to escape it. I don't need to. Instead, I choose to acknowledge the wide, open space that surrounds me, and to give it a kind of life. It feels like a planet once questioning the reason for its rings, then gently concluding, "This is simply how I am."

I choose to exist alongside this emptiness, because it is, in the end, who I am.

And if you too carry something you cannot refuse,
I hope you'll find a way to meet it gently, and make peace with it.


[2] Why I Began Thinking This Way
The questions kept multiplying. If I don’t know who I am, how can I live as myself? If I can’t live in a way that is truly mine, does my life have any meaning? Then what does it mean to be “myself”? What does it mean to live? And what does it mean to live meaningfully?
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A Note to the Reader: This writing is part of a book I’ve published.
I hope you’ll find a moment to meet it.
Losing Your Way to Find Yourself [Book Introduction]
This book invites readers into the timeless questions that define human existence — “Who am I?”, “Why was I born?”, and “Why must I live?” For those who carry deep and restless questions, Losing Your Way to Find Yourself offers a moment of quiet contemplation — a pause between one step and the next.

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