From an early age, I felt a deep sense of lacking—an unidentifiable void within me. No matter what I did, the feeling never disappeared. In an effort to fill this emptiness, I sought friendships, tried to please my parents and society, excelled in academics, and engaged in extracurricular activities to gain recognition. However, as I struggled to achieve lasting satisfaction, I gradually turned inward.

I began doing things that brought me personal pleasure—music, reading, and sex became my escape. I realized it was easier to find fulfilment by looking inward rather than outward, perhaps because I lacked the skills to connect with the external world effectively. While I trained myself in outward communication, I continued indulging in my inner world, using it to compensate for my external struggles.

Unfortunately, my inner world was largely shaped by external influences—music created by others who sought to fill their own voids, fleeting moments of passion that offered temporary relief, and books that, while insightful, were too slow to provide immediate solace. Over time, my inner world became a gathering place for borrowed experiences rather than a sanctuary of my own. Sex became a fleeting fire, music an overwhelming noise, and reading a slow companion. I found myself losing my own existence in the process.

Regardless of my external successes or failures, my inner world became a sanctuary of sorrow and loneliness. I started to believe that life itself was nothing but pain. Negative and catastrophic events reinforced this belief, leading me toward complete destruction, consumed by pain, anger, and fear. Just when I thought I had lost everything, an unseen force intervened. Slowly, my life began to change. I started noticing the gentle breeze, the simple joys of existence. The overpowering noise of music and the frenzy of indulgence faded, leaving behind a quiet space for healing.

With this newfound clarity, I recognized a connection that had always been there—my bond with the Creator. As my inner world emptied of distractions, this connection became more visible, more tangible. The void I had felt since childhood began to dissolve. I no longer craved money, fame, or validation. I still engage in life’s pursuits, but without the desperation I once had. Often, I even prefer stillness, as my inner world now feels content.

I now understand that my body arrived on this earth 45 years ago, small and limited. As it grew, my activities expanded, and I became engrossed in the games of life. In the process, I lost touch with myself. My unmet needs created a deep void, and my attempts to fill it with the wrong things only made it worse. Ironically, the catastrophic events that nearly destroyed me also dismantled the illusions I had built. When I emerged from the wreckage, I found a simpler, truer life waiting for me.

This feels like a second birth—a fresh start, leading to real fulfillment. Now, I know my body and I know myself. I nourish both, taking care of my physical being while nurturing my inner self. Most importantly, I have found the true source of my energy. By staying connected—to others like me for short-term fulfilment and to my Creator for lasting peace—I know I will never feel empty again. My only task is to remain vigilant, avoiding distractions that corrode these connections and staying aligned with what truly matters.