It tears the blindfold from your eyes.
But it doesn’t tell you what to do with what you see.

A reflection on existentialism, growing up, meditation – and why we no longer need to look gloomy in a black turtleneck to talk about existence, meaning, and silence.

Back in high school, I kept asking the same questions over and over again:
Who am I? Why am I here? What does any of this even mean?

It’s a phase most of us go through.
As kids, we believe it will pass with time.
At least I believed that once I grew up, I’d understand everything.
Just like grown-ups do. Parents. Teachers. Adults know.

But… it didn’t take long for me to realize that no one really knows.
And that illusion shattered so quietly – and so painfully – that for a while, I didn’t feel like anyone at all.

It’s a bit like finding out Santa isn’t real.
You make a wish, and you trust someone will make it come true.
And then your classmates tell you the truth.
And suddenly, the world shifts. Your first awakening. Your first betrayal.

I tried to fit in. To be cheerful.
Because let’s be honest – no one really wants to hang out with someone who’s just drifting, unsure what to do with themselves.
Most things didn’t matter to me then – and some still don’t.
But some things… some things matter deeply.
I just didn’t have the words for them back then.

Sometimes I felt like a visitor from another planet,
unable to fully belong.

So I turned to the existentialists.
I read, reflected, resonated.
They spoke of a world stripped of sugarcoating and illusions.
And in that, I found comfort – until I realized:
they didn’t offer a way out.
They named the emptiness. But I no longer wanted to live in it.

What helped me back then was a kind of quiet, homemade meditation –
even though we didn’t call it that at the time.

I sat. I wandered. I walked in nature.
I did “useless” things.
To the outside world, I might have seemed a bit… pointless.
But inside, I felt alive.

Today, meditation is practically trendy.
People dive into it with determination:
to center themselves, let go, think of nothing, relax.
But the more you try… the further away you get.

Because silence doesn’t want to be your goal.
It wants to be your space.

You don’t have to strive.
Just be. Without goals. Without expectations. And grow quiet.

And that’s not easy.
Because there’s so little silence left around us.

But I love silence.
And at the same time – I love the city.
Cafés. Art. Architecture. Tech gadgets.
I don’t need to crawl into a cave to quiet my mind.
Sometimes, it’s enough to turn off the radio.
Or the TV humming in the background.

Don’t be afraid of silence.
Important things come from silence.
Because silence is… always honest.