…is that it leaves you blissful and miserable at once.
I’ve been reading philosophy for years, mostly in search of wisdom, peace, and clarity that otherwise didn’t come from within.
I used philosophy like a self-help pill
It became my shortcut to understanding myself when the voices within didn’t echo the answers I sought.
Philosophy helped when emotional numbness took over, and it helped calm my inner chaos when I felt lost.
I expected philosophy to be straightforward and fair
I’ve indirectly been in the company of thinkers. I’ve immersed myself in the tribe of people who questioned and sought to understand everything. Especially life.
So, I dived into their ways, I borrowed their perspectives, and I attempted to mold myself based on what I learned.
And it turned out well for me, mostly. I felt better, and I felt saved. I fell in love with philosophy even more.
And it was fair…almost
Until I realized that philosophy can be achy too.
It doesn’t throw hard punches or offend you with baseless arguments that you can easily rebut.
Instead, it twists your heart, digs into your insecurities, and shakes your inner peace.
It hands you the truth. It gives the right answers when you ask. And then it abandons you to deal with the circumstances.
It gives you what you need over what you want
It’s the bitter pill that heals well.
Philosophy fascinates.
It lifts you and shatters you.
And somehow, you cannot deny…it only wishes you well.