Nighthawks by Edward Hopper (1942)
Anxiety. Overthinking. Worry. Depression. “Breaking the chain.”
Words we hear more often than our own names these days.
I see so many of us—me included—caught in the tangle of inner noise, pressure, and quiet despair.
But you, modern human, do you really have the luxury of carrying all that emotional weight while you’re already haunted by the fear that time is slipping through your fingers?
We are not sterile beings.
We’ve been shaped by our surroundings, molded by expectations, and born into inherited concepts long before we had the chance to question them. Now, those concepts rule us silently- disguised as goals, values, and identities.
But what makes us forget how temporary our existence truly is?
Yes, our actions might outlive us—our creations, our words, our love.
But if we can’t witness the ripple, does it really offer us peace in the present moment?
Sometimes, I wonder whether a more Aurelian approach—stoic, detached, mindful—might actually serve us better.
We lose sight of who we are under the pressure of modern ideals:
Deadlines. Filtered perfection. Curated selves.
We’re all trying to become the best version of ourselves. But let’s ask: best by whose definition?
Are we building a self that’s truly ours—or merely mimicking a digital persona we believe society will applaud?
Maybe we chase aesthetics, attend the “right” events, or even rebel in ways that still aim for uniqueness rather than authenticity. While I write this, I ask myself: Is it that deep?
Maybe not.
But this is how I think—messy, layered, searching.
And no, this isn’t criticism for the sake of critique (though I admit, criticism is my hobby). It’s an attempt to understand my own urges too.
So here’s the question I gently place on the table:
How do we truly live a life we intend—not perform, not survive, but intend?
And yes— “break the chain.”
Another concept we all keep hearing.
But before you try to shatter it, remember:
You didn’t forge that chain.
You are not defined by it.
You are not all about that “chain.”
Give yourself time.
Maybe your awareness is the first step—and that’s enough for now.
You don’t have to leap into liberation overnight.
Maybe you can simply step away without smashing it to pieces.
That chain is not your identity.
You may choose to learn what you can, put it aside, and walk away.
Or rather than seeing that chain as a burden, maybe you can turn it into an accessory that goes well with your outfit.
The choice is yours.
Let the anxiety simmer down.
Let your logic—not a temporary need to be heroic—guide your next move.
Perhaps you’ll never need to “break” anything.
Perhaps liberation is simply knowing this chain isn’t yours to carry.
Each day, we perform a life: successful, productive, composed.
But we rarely stop to ask:
What do I truly need?
Who am I beneath all this noise?
Take your time.
Breathe deeply.
Be gentle with yourself.
Sometimes, we just want to be understood. This need for resonance, this longing to feel less alone in our inner storms, can lead us into many different situations.
Ironically, those who try to support us sometimes end up binding us tighter with their version of what’s right.
They offer comfort, yes—but sometimes at the cost of our autonomy.
They mean well, but they deepen the maze.
Perhaps instead of asking “What do I want?” or “What do I need?”, we should turn to deeper questions like:
“What might God mean by this riddle?”
“What is the purpose of my existence?”
So here is what I’ve come to believe among my messy thoughts and writing:
Live your life at your own pace.
Be a decent human.
Stay gently honest with yourself.
Don’t overlook your own necessities.
And if you feel like you’ve messed things up—it’s okay. Really.
Let go of blame—of others, the past, yourself.
I know I’m neither the first nor the last person to say this, but:
what’s done is done.
What matters now is this:
Cultivate your inner world.
Live what’s left of this beautifully uncertain journey as your own.
Not as a reaction.
Not as a duty.
But as a quiet reclaiming of your one wild and temporary life.
Do not let uneasiness in your soul find a form as a pathological problem in your body or mind.
As we navigate the tangled emotions and endless questions of our existence, it helps to remember the simple yet powerful passions that have guided some of the greatest minds before us. Bertrand Russell once wrote:
“Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life:
the longing for love,
the search for knowledge,
and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind.
These passions, like great winds, have blown me hither and thither,
in a wayward course, over a great ocean of anguish, reaching to the very verge of despair.”
Like Russell, we too are carried by deep, sometimes turbulent currents—passions that define us beyond our anxieties and fears. And yet, our time here is finite. We won’t live for a thousand years. So why carry the anxiety of a thousand?
Perhaps liberation isn’t about breaking chains in a dramatic burst, but about gently choosing what burdens to hold and for how long. Carry only what is truly yours.
Again, why carry the anxiety of a thousand?
Impression, Sunrise (1872) by Claude Monet
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