Point: Life often feels meaningless because we』re trapped in a cycle of avoiding our freedom and responsibility.
Let』s get real for a second. You』ve probably had those late-night moments, staring at the ceiling, wondering, 「What the hell am I even doing with my life?」 It』s not just you. This gnawing sense of emptiness is a universal human experience, and it』s not because you haven』t achieved enough or bought the right stuff. It』s because, as existentialist thinkers like Jean-Paul Sartre and Albert Camus pointed out, we』re wired to dodge the raw, uncomfortable truth of our existence: we are free, and with that freedom comes a terrifying responsibility to create our own meaning. Most of us run from this. We distract ourselves with Netflix binges, endless scrolling, or chasing external validation. But the void doesn』t go away. It just sits there, waiting for us to confront it.
Sartre famously said, 「Man is condemned to be free.」 That』s not a typo—condemned. Freedom isn』t the warm, fuzzy liberation we imagine. It』s a burden. There』s no cosmic instruction manual telling you who to be or what to do. You』re thrown into the world, and it』s on you to figure it out. Most of us hate this. We』d rather cling to pre-packaged identities—employee, parent, patriot—than face the blank slate of our existence. But here』s the kicker: avoiding this freedom doesn』t make life easier; it makes it feel hollow. When you outsource your purpose to society』s expectations or someone else』s rules, you』re not living—you』re just existing.
And then there』s Camus, who introduced the concept of the absurd—the tension between our desire for meaning and the universe』s cold indifference. Life doesn』t owe us a grand purpose. There』s no hidden 「why」 waiting to be uncovered. The absurd isn』t a problem to solve; it』s a reality to accept. But instead of accepting it, we often double down on denial, chasing after promotions, relationships, or spiritual gurus, hoping they』ll fill the gap. Spoiler: they won』t. The emptiness persists because we』re looking in the wrong place.
Reason: We』re conditioned to fear the uncertainty of creating our own meaning, so we settle for distraction and conformity.
Think about how we』re raised. From the moment we』re born, we』re handed scripts. Go to school, get good grades, land a stable job, start a family, retire happy. Society loves structure, and it』s damn good at convincing us that following the script equals meaning. But what happens when you check all the boxes and still feel like something』s missing? That』s the absurd rearing its ugly head. The script isn』t your meaning—it』s just a distraction from the fact that you have to write your own.
Sartre called this 「bad faith,」 the act of lying to ourselves by pretending we』re not free. We tell ourselves, 「I have to do this job,」 or 「I can』t leave this toxic relationship,」 as if some external force is controlling us. But deep down, we know it』s bullshit. Every choice we make is ours, and that scares the hell out of us. Freedom means uncertainty. It means there』s no guarantee that what we choose will 「work out.」 So, we play it safe. We conform. We let others decide what』s important. And in doing so, we rob ourselves of the very thing that could make life feel worth living: authenticity.
Camus, on the other hand, saw this avoidance as a refusal to confront the absurd. He argued that there are three ways people deal with the lack of inherent meaning: they leap into faith (clinging to religion or ideology), they commit suicide (rejecting life altogether), or they accept the absurd and live in defiance of it. Most of us don』t literally choose suicide, but we do it metaphorically. We kill off parts of ourselves—our curiosity, our dreams, our individuality—to fit into a world that promises meaning but delivers monotony. Social media doesn』t help. It』s a highlight reel of other people』s scripts, making us feel like we』re failing if we don』t measure up. So, we scroll, compare, and numb out, all while the void grows.
Even Martin Heidegger, another existential heavyweight, pointed out that we often live in a state of 「inauthenticity.」 We get lost in the 「they」—the anonymous mass of societal norms—and forget to ask what we truly want. Heidegger believed that confronting our mortality is the key to snapping out of this. When you realize you』re going to die (and not in some abstract, far-off way, but as a visceral truth), you stop wasting time on trivial bullshit. But most of us don』t do this. We』re too busy being busy, too scared to sit with the silence of our own thoughts.
Example: Real-life struggles and philosophical rebellion show us the cost of avoidance—and the power of embracing freedom.
Let me paint a picture. I』ve got a friend—let』s call him Jake—who spent his 20s climbing the corporate ladder. He followed the script to a T: prestigious degree, six-figure salary, fancy apartment. By 30, he had it all. But he was miserable. He』d wake up every day feeling like a fraud, like he was living someone else』s life. He didn』t even know what he wanted; he just knew it wasn』t this. Jake was in bad faith, as Sartre would say. He told himself he had to keep going because of 「responsibilities」—bills, status, what his family expected. But the truth was, he was choosing to stay stuck. He was free to walk away, but the uncertainty of starting over paralyzed him.
Then there』s the flip side. I read about a woman named Claire who, after a near-death experience, quit her soul-sucking job as a lawyer and started painting. She wasn』t 「successful」 by society』s standards—she struggled to pay rent some months—but she said she』d never felt more alive. Claire embodied Camus』 idea of rebellion. She accepted that life has no inherent meaning, so she decided to create her own through art. She wasn』t waiting for the universe to validate her; she was validating herself. And yeah, it was messy and scary, but it was hers.
Camus himself gave us a powerful metaphor for this in The Myth of Sisyphus. Sisyphus, condemned to roll a boulder up a hill for eternity only for it to roll back down, is the ultimate symbol of the absurd. But Camus imagines Sisyphus as happy—not because the task has meaning, but because he chooses to defy the absurdity by owning his struggle. He doesn』t hope for a better outcome; he finds purpose in the act itself. Contrast this with Jake, who was rolling his own boulder but hating every second because he didn』t choose it. The difference isn』t the struggle—it』s the mindset.
Heidegger』s take would push us even further. He』d ask Jake to confront his 「being-toward-death.」 If Jake sat down and really internalized that his time is finite, would he still waste it on a job he hates? Probably not. Heidegger believed that only by facing death do we prioritize what truly matters. Claire did this instinctively after her accident. She didn』t have time for inauthenticity anymore.
Point (Restated): You can break free from meaninglessness by owning your freedom and rebelling against the absurd.
So, here』s the deal: life feels meaningless because we』re dodging the hard stuff—freedom, responsibility, and the absurd. But you don』t have to stay stuck. The existentialists didn』t just diagnose the problem; they gave us tools to fight back. Sartre tells us to live authentically, to stop hiding behind excuses and own our choices, no matter how uncertain they feel. Camus urges us to rebel, to create meaning in a meaningless world by embracing the struggle itself. Heidegger reminds us that death is the ultimate wake-up call—if you』re not living for what matters to you, you』re already half-dead.
Start small. Ask yourself: What am I doing right now that I don』t actually choose? Where am I blaming others or 「circumstances」 for my dissatisfaction? That』s bad faith. Then, take a page from Camus and pick something—anything—that feels like a personal act of defiance against the void. Maybe it』s writing a poem no one will read, or saying no to a job that drains you, or just sitting with the discomfort of not knowing what』s next. The point isn』t to 「fix」 the absurd; it』s to live in spite of it.
And don』t shy away from the big, scary questions. Heidegger would have you meditate on your mortality, not to depress you, but to clarify what』s worth your time. If you had a year left, what would you do differently? Start doing that now. Meaning isn』t found in some grand, universal truth. It』s built, brick by brick, through the choices you make every day.
This isn』t easy. Freedom is heavy. Rebellion is exhausting. Facing death is unsettling. But the alternative—numbing out, conforming, pretending—isn』t living. It』s just surviving. And deep down, you know you want more than that. So, stop running from the void. Stare it down. Build something in its place. Because if life is meaningless, then you』re free to make it mean whatever the hell you want.
