Fear of abandonment is a primordial dread that creeps into the psyche, often rooted in the early fabric of one's life experiences. It is a treacherous shadow that follows silently, whispering insecurities that can lead to a labyrinth of irrational decisions. This fear can ensnare an individual in a web of desperate actions, as the terror of solitude eclipses rational thought. They might cling to relationships or situations that are detrimental, simply to avoid the perceived void that abandonment would bring. The dread of being left alone can compel one to construct facades, to morph into who they believe others want them to be, forsaking their true selves in the process. It is a potent manipulator, driving individuals to extremes in a frantic bid to avert the pain of isolation. Understanding and confronting this fear is a daunting, yet necessary, endeavor to reclaim one's autonomy and make decisions that are not tainted by the specter of abandonment.

On Fear of Abandonment

The purpose of humanity transcends mere existence, it is not to draw breath alone.

Within the vast tapestry of human endeavor, it is not sufficient to merely occupy space—to be a silent testament to time passing. To exist is the most basic of conditions; a state shared with the inanimate, requiring no thought, no passion, no will. The true measure of a life, however, is found in its function, its impact, its assertion of agency in a world that is otherwise indifferent to one's presence. This function, this active participation in the theatre of the living, demands that one does not simply live, but rather that one lives with intent, with purpose. It is in the crafting of legacy, the nurturing of progress, the contribution to a larger narrative that one transcends the mundane cycle of biological imperatives. In this, the individual asserts themselves against the entropy of existence, and in the echoes of their actions, finds immortality.

On Function of a man

In the dimly lit corridors of the human psyche, there dwells a disconcerting truth, one that festers in the interactions woven by society's intricate web. Within the confines of these connections, the mirrors of our own shortcomings are held up by the hands of those we encounter, reflecting back the fragments of our selves we so desperately wish to ignore. It is in the gaze of the other that one becomes painfully aware of the facade they wear, the mask that shields the vulnerabilities from the world's prying eyes. Each judgment, every whispered word and pointed stare, chips away at the veneer, revealing the raw, unvarnished soul beneath. The dread of this exposure, the ceaseless scrutiny, the perpetual state of performing on the stage of life for an audience adept at discerning the slightest slip — it is this relentless trial by the collective jury that ignites the inferno of alienation. Trapped in a Sartrean paradox, the mind recoils at the thought that the very essence of our torment could be the presence of others, yet it is an inescapable reality. In this labyrinth of existential quandary, where the minotaur of self is hunted by the very humans it seeks to elude, one finds a stark revelation. Hell is other people.

On Hell Is Other People

In the heart of every laughter, anhedonia lurks, a specter draining the colors from life's canvas. This insidious condition, more than a mere absence of joy, is a profound disconnection from the rhythms that make us feel alive. It muffles the music of existence, turning vibrant notes into hollow echoes. As if through a frosted pane, the world appears distant, its once vivid hues faded into a somber gray. In the realm of anhedonia, beauty and sorrow intertwine, indistinguishable in their muted expression, leaving the soul adrift in a sea of numbness. It's a silent odyssey through emotional voids, where even tears lose their salt.

Mohammad Reza Taesiri