Bad times don't just "feel bad". They feel like suffocation. Like something heavy pressing on your chest that no one else can see. I don't try to make suffering prettier than it is. Pain is real, and when you're in it, advice feels hollow. And yet, something strange happens with time.
Some of the deepest insights I've seen in people's lives didn't come wrapped in joy and clarity. They came from heartbreak, from disappointments, from nights that felt endless. There's something absurd about how much we learn from suffering, how pain becomes a kind of teacher no one asked for, but everyone meets eventually.
The existential lens does not sugarcoat things. Life has no built-in meaning. We suffer, often without reason, and sometimes we break. But within that absurdity lies freedom; we get to choose how we respond. The suffering may not be meaningful in itself, but what we do with it can be. That's where the human spirit becomes something fierce and beautiful.
I've heard people asking this; even I myself have had this doubt multiple times - "Why did this have to happen?" Sometimes there's no satisfying answer. But later comes this answer as well - "I wouldn't have been who I am if that hadn't happened". That shift is quiet. It sneaks up on you. It's not forgiveness of the pain, but a kind of co-existence with it.
We don't heal by pretending things were okay. We heal by remembering that even worst days couldn't take away our capacity to feel, to reflect, to grow. We start building meaning in the rubble, not by denying what broke us, but by owning and saying, "This too, is part of my story".
Happiness rarely forces us to ask the big questions. But suffering? It cracks up open. It makes us confront who we are, what we care about, and what kind of life we want to live. It's uncomfortable, yes, but it's real. And realness is often more valuable than fleeting peace.
If you're in a dark place, don't rush to fix it. Sit with it. Scream, cry, curse the sky if you have to. But trust this; one day you'll look back, not with fondness, but with wisdom. You'll see that the lessons that shaped you didn't come wrapped in laughter. They came clothed in nights you thought you wouldn't survive.
And maybe that's what makes life strangely beautiful. Not that it's always good but that even in its absurdity, even in its cruelty, there's still something in us that insists on making meaning. On growing. On choosing to try again.
Wishing you to have a good day.
Thank you :)