Notes from the End of Everything

Every morning I get up and I'm tired.

Felt that one – In fact, I felt this entire book.

Honestly, I judged the book by its pretty cover only and by the fact that I watch the authors' YouTube videos – the premise sounded promising as well – but I didn't expect much out of this book. Needless to say, my expectations have been significantly surpassed. This was one of the best books I've read this year and one of the most thought-provoking ones.

It only gets 4.5 out of 5 stars because there was some nonsense, needlessly dense paragraphs, and philosophical views I didn't quite agree with.

With that said, this is a man's journal about who received the unfortunate news that his life will end due to a terminal illness. The entire book is written in a philosophical style, occasionally wandering into the self-help genre but, mercifully, not for very long. I was largely impressed by it. It was incredibly honest and spoke some unflinching truths that, in my opinion, most people needed to hear. It gave you so many opportunities to stop and reflect.

Additionally, being philosophical and all that, it resisted dread even more than it delivered; at moments, I even had the impression that the book was anti-nihilistic. I frequently found myself thinking about Viktor's “Man's Search for Meaning” while reading it, which is another good reason to read this little gem. It had such incredible strength overall. Underrated and recommended 100%.

I have several, but a few of my favorite quotes are:

I wonder now how many days I wasted thinking I wasted days? How many days I made bad for no reason other than thinking they were bad, overlooking how good I could have made them by simply recognizing how good they already were?

In an effort to say the right things, we often avoid saying the real things. Which are usually the right things. You become a photo of a photo of a photo of yourself. A low-res, synthetic version, void of whatever uniqueness that makes you worthwhile and interesting and capable of enriched connection.

Good friendship forms out of those who know themselves well enough to create and maintain good friendship. The person who has yet to find any comfort in themselves will gnaw and pull at others in hopes of finding it, forming a sort of addictive dependency on their relationships in which they put the weight of their own wellbeing on the shoulders of others, which no good friendship can come from.

An idle mind is the devil's workshop, so they say. Which is also to say that one's being, in its most basic, fundamental condition, is that of anguish. That to sit with one's self, alone with one's thoughts, is to experience the nausea of existing as one's self. It's as if instead of becoming nauseous from motion in life, we become nauseas from motionlessness. Thus, our default mode is misery, and everything is but an effort of distraction.

Of course, in the act of creating, expressing, and living as one's true self, one risks something we all dread: rejection. And worse yet, rejection on the deepest and most personal level. But if the fear of being rejected keeps us from our self, are we not, in essence, rejecting our self first? The only person we truly and inescapably have to live with. And in this, we risk living without ever fully exploring our self. Never fully being our self. Dying as someone who never saw the world and who the world never got a chance to see.

We seem to so desire certainty. An immortality. A utopic end to conflict, suffering, and misunderstanding. And yet, in the final elimination of all darkness exists light with no contrast. And where there is no contrast of light, there is no perception of light at all.