Most people hate philosophy. Not because it’s boring—but because of how it was shoved down their throats in school. You sit there, sixteen years old, half-asleep under flickering fluorescent lights, while someone drones on about metaphysics like it’s tax code for the soul. They toss around names like Descartes and Nietzsche like everyone grew up debating epistemology at the dinner table. And when you ask a question? They hand you more terms. More “frameworks.” More essays with footnotes. No wonder everyone bails on the first week. But here’s the thing no one tells you: philosophy isn’t dead words in old books. It’s the voice in your head at 2 a.m. asking, “What’s the point of all this?” It’s the moment you stare at your ceiling and realize you’re just a meat skeleton with WiFi, flailing through an uncaring cosmos. It’s real —more real than half the crap we learn for standardized tests. Philosophy isn’t about finding answers. It’s about learning how to sit with the questions withou...
I dwell in the spaces where shadows meet light, where questions outnumber answers. A seeker of truths buried deep, I write to unearth what lies beneath the surface. In the chaos, I find my voice. In the silence, I find myself.