The Existential Crisis is Running Late — But It’ll Be Here Soon

Somewhere between overthinking and enlightenment, he found a place called Tuesday.

Let’s face it. Somewhere between your fifth cup of coffee and a three-hour scroll session that ends in watching ancient bread-making videos, you’ve probably whispered to yourself: “What am I even doing?”

Welcome. You’re either in the midst of an existential crisis… or you’ve just met its shadow.

What Even Is an Existential Crisis?

It sounds like a diagnosis Sartre might’ve handed out with a smug look and a cigarette. But really, it’s just that lovely cocktail of dread, introspection, and the creeping suspicion that all of this might be meaningless. It's when “Why am I here?” stops being a philosophical question and becomes your internal hold music.

Here’s the funny part: almost everyone has one. Or should. Or will. But not everyone recognizes it for what it is. Some call it burnout. Some call it Monday. Others drown it in retail therapy or kale smoothies. But that quiet panic you feel when success doesn't fulfill you, when routines feel like prisons, when your LinkedIn headline starts to look like someone else’s bio? That’s your soul knocking. Gently. Then loudly. Then with a sledgehammer.

Is It Only for the ‘Smart’ Ones?

Let’s be honest—if you're not at least mildly self-critical, analytical, or over-observant, the crisis might not catch you. You’re just happily floating, untouched by the burden of thought. Good for you. But for the rest of us—the thinkers, the feelers, the “let-me-overanalyze-this-text-message-for-7-hours” club—existential crisis is our rite of passage.

It’s not a bug. It’s a feature.

It comes to those who dare to ask why in a world that rewards how much. Why do I work this job? Why do I want this validation? Why does everyone suddenly care about oat milk?

Is It Curable?

Well, define cure. You can numb it. You can distract yourself. You can attend spiritual retreats, buy books with minimalist covers, or start saying things like “I’m aligning with my purpose.” But it’s not about fixing anything. It’s about realizing that maybe life isn’t a puzzle to be solved—but a bizarre improv scene we’re all awkwardly acting out.

And sometimes, just realizing that the whole thing is absurd—that existence itself has no built-in manual—is exactly what frees you.

So… Is It Even Real?

Oh, it’s real. As real as a birthday notification from someone you haven’t spoken to in ten years. As real as your 2 AM thoughts. As real as a motivational poster that makes you feel worse.

But here’s the twist: it’s also… kind of funny.

It’s the comedy of caring so deeply about something you don’t fully understand. It’s the human experience wrapped in satire. And once you stop resisting it, once you make peace with not knowing, you might just find it less terrifying—and a lot more interesting.

So, What Now?

Don’t run from your crisis. Invite it in. Offer it a seat. Make it a coffee. Let it speak. It’s not a monster under your bed—it’s your mind trying to matter.

And if nothing else, it makes great material for your next awkward dinner conversation.