Hayat woke up ten minutes before his alarm, which was his least favorite kind of miracle.It felt like life saying, "Good morning, here's a head start you didn't ask for."
He stared at the ceiling, blanket half-on, half-off like his will to live.
And then, as usual, the thought arrived.Not knocking. Not politely. Just barging in.
"Why am I alive?"
He didn't panic. He didn't scream.He just sighed like a man who has been receiving the same spam call for years.
Yes, the existential crisis was back. Like a subscription he forgot to cancel.
He rubbed his face."Bro I didn't even do anything yet today… why is my brain starting with the final boss question?"
But it kept going.
"I was born because two people made a decision. Or maybe by accident. Then coincidences stacked. And now here I am. Paying rent. Eating yesterday's leftovers. For what?"
He thought about death—like always.
Eventually, everyone he loves will die.Eventually, he will die.Eventually, even the sun will die.And here he was, stressing about whether he should wash his lunchbox or leave it "for Future Hayat," who already has enough problems.
Sometimes, he wished a vampire would bite him.Not the ugly ones. A cool one.One with eyeliner.One who would say something like, "Your suffering ends now, my child."
Immortality sounded chill.
Sure, eternity might get boring, but so was life already.
He rolled out of bed, whispered "bismillah" out of habit, and stood up like an old man even though he wasn't one. Yet.
THE MORNING ROUTINE THAT WASN'T REALLY A ROUTINE
Hayat attempted a structured morning, because self-help books promised life would improve if he followed routines.
But routines require consistency.
And Hayat was consistent only at inconsistent things.
He brushed his teeth while staring at the mirror.
He didn't see a hero.He didn't see potential.He saw a guy with messy hair and a face that said, "Bro, I haven't slept properly since 2017."
While washing his face, another thought hit:
"Out of all possible sperm, I had to be the one that won? For THIS life? Really?"
He wasn't angry.Just… mildly disappointed.
Then he made breakfast: two bananas and tea.
Tea because life required coping mechanisms.Bananas because they were cheap.
"At least monkeys don't have existential crisis. Lucky bastards."
THE DAILY STRUGGLE OF DOING BARE MINIMUM
Hayat walked to work, earbuds in, listening to music that made him feel like the main character—right up until he remembered even protagonists die in the end.
"If everything ends anyway, why does it matter how much I succeed? Even if I become the best version of myself… so what?"
He tried to distract himself by thinking of his workload.
He had tasks.Deadlines.A boss who thought smiling was a sin.Bills that didn't care about his philosophical thoughts.
Life didn't stop because he was busy questioning existence.
So he kept walking.
THE OBLIGATORY SPIRAL INTO THE PAST
On the bus, he remembered all the times he failed.
The exam he didn't pass.The opportunities he missed.The promises he broke.The friendships he couldn't maintain.The dreams he let die.
Every memory felt like a pop-up ad titled: "You Suck. Here's Proof."
But he shrugged.
He was used to this.His brain overthinks like it's preparing for an entrance exam no one asked him to give.
Still, something hurt.
He wondered, "Did my past decisions ruin my life? Or was my life already ruined and my decisions were just decoration?"
Hard to know.
WORK: THE TEMPORARY DISTRACTION FROM EXISTENCE
At work, nothing dramatic happened.It was the usual chaos.
Computers lagging.Colleagues complaining.Hayat pretending to be productive while having a crisis every 20 minutes.
At one point he stared at his screen and whispered:
"One meteor. One. Is that too much to ask?"
But he did his job, because he had to.He wasn't rich enough to ignore life.
Occasionally he drank water, remembering he needed to "take care of health" because apparently that mattered even when existence didn't.
THE NIGHT-TIME COLLAPSE
Back home, after a boring-but-exhausting day, he lay on his bed scrolling his phone.
Reels of people:
succeeding,
travelling,
having perfect bodies,
living dream lives,
and giving advice like they were born employees of God's management team.
Hayat just blinked at the screen and whispered:
"Bro I'm trying to survive my own thoughts. Calm down."
He tossed the phone aside.
And then existential crisis hit again—because apparently it had no chill.
"If everything ends, then what's the point? Why try? Why care? Why dream? Why do anything?"
He stared at the ceiling and exhaled.
"Because… I'm here. Might as well."
It wasn't hope.It wasn't positivity.It was survival.
And honestly, survival was good enough.
He shut his eyes.
Tomorrow would be the same.
But that was fine.
Because in his quiet, tired, overthinking brain…Hayat still believed a coincidence might come.Something unexpected.Something that would make things worth it.
Maybe tiny.Maybe stupid.Maybe once a year.
But enough.
Enough to keep going.