An Existential Crisis

I used to stand on the corner all day long. I stood there all night too. I never slept because I had important work to do. People passed by and blatantly ignored me. It was like I wasn’t even there.

As I stood there and thought about the matter, I came to the disheartening conclusion that people used to respect me and the things I stood for. They would listen and pay attention to my commands. That was because they understood why I was there. To keep them and others safe from harm. My commands were there for a reason. To save their lives. People listened to me, and I was happy. Life was good.

That just wasn’t the case anymore.

Times had changed. People saw my commands as restrictive. They thought they were old and obsolete—a waste of time. Or if they did listen, it was only half-heartedly that they did as I said. I knew they didn’t really care. They were just going through the motions. The only thing that kept them in line was the threat of punishment—the long arm of the law, so to speak.

Most people just chose to ignore me.

Oh sure, there had always been people who ignored me—even back when I was just starting out. It saddened me when they didn’t listen. I wondered how they could be so foolish and reckless! Didn’t they know I was there to help them? By not listening to me, they were bringing their punishment down on themselves. Whatever consequences came their way would be their own fault.  Couldn’t they see that? I thought they’d get what was coming to them, as the old adage went. How young and naïve I once was! They usually didn’t.

Over the years as I hoped desperately for a change, nothing did. In a public show of defiance, people laughed and ignored me. They usually got away with their rebellious disobedience because no one seemed to care anymore. People turned a blind eye to that which they didn’t want to address. Everybody else is doing it, they whispered to themselves. What’s the big deal? What does it matter?

And I began to wonder. Did I even matter anymore? If no one listened to me, why was I still here? Why did I even exist? If I were to disappear, would anyone notice? Would they even care?

As I thought such thoughts, I got pretty down about myself. I let go of that foolish hope of change. It was as low as I’ve ever felt. An existential crisis tended to do that. I knew it wasn’t good for me, but I didn’t know how to change. I felt so terribly alone. It was a vicious cycle that had me trapped—a cycle of self-loathing and doubt that refused to let me go.

Then I realized something. I needed to listen to what I was telling everyone else to do. I needed to practice what I preached. I also needed to listen to my friends and family because they reminded me that I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t the only one struggling with such detrimental thoughts. My friends and family were going through the same adversities. They were struggling—right there with me. People ignored them as well—just as they were ignoring me.

I was reminded of how much we needed each other. We did matter. We needed to support and encourage each other to not give in to despair. We had to keep standing on the street corners and at the busy intersections because what we had to say was important. We had a message that saved lives. That was a message people needed to hear.

Now, at the time of writing this, many people still ignore me. They still ignore my friends and family. But I’m holding onto hope. I let go of hope once and gave into despair. Never again. I’ve learned from my past mistakes. I’m holding onto hope that someday, people will begin to listen to me again. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll look up from their distractions and actually notice me standing there on the corner. They’ll understand why I’m there; what I’m telling them to do.

And they’ll stop.

---