23 and Already Tired of Life

I don’t know if this is a rant, a story, or a request for help. But if you’re reading this, I hope you go through it once.

I’m 23, working as an employee with barely a year of experience. I was born and brought up in Hyderabad, in a middle-class family where things were never easy.

I think I grew up a little too early.

By the age of 12 or 13, I already understood my family’s financial condition. Because of that, I never insisted on things I wanted. No toys, no expensive stuff, no unnecessary demands. Even today, before buying anything, I overthink—Do I really need this? Can I manage without it? Is there a cheaper alternative?

I never pressured my parents for branded clothes or costly things. I even stopped celebrating my birthdays after I turned 14.

Maybe that’s where something changed in me. Somewhere along the way, I started losing interest in things.

During my teenage years, my life was quite restricted. My father worked in the same college where I studied, so I was always under his supervision.

Like many others, I had dreams of getting into IIT or at least an NIT. I worked hard, but I couldn’t secure a rank good enough. Eventually, I joined a local college through EAMCET.

College is supposed to be the phase where life starts shaping—friendships, careers, relationships, everything.

For me, it did too.

I was an average student, scoring decent grades. But there’s a story behind those grades.

During college, I developed feelings for a girl. Over time, we became very close. We spent almost four years together—traveling to college, studying side by side, preparing for exams, and even getting ready for placements.

At some point, my reasons for working hard changed.

Initially, I just wanted to improve my family’s financial condition. But slowly, I started imagining a future with her. I wanted to build a life with her. That thought became a strong motivation for me—to study harder, to do better, to become something.

She became a big part of my daily life and my emotional support system.

When I got placed at Oracle, I wasn’t completely happy. A part of me felt sad because she didn’t get placed.

Later, when she finally got placed, I was genuinely happy. I still remember how excited I was while talking to her that day. It felt like our achievement.

By the end of the fourth year, first semester, I felt like everything was finally falling into place—for both of us. I thought it was the right time to tell her how I felt.

But life had other plans.

Around the same time, my father had to undergo a stent operation. Within six months, we found out he had oral cancer.

Everything collapsed. I was running between hospitals, clinics, tests, and follow-ups. My mind was completely occupied.

And in the middle of all this, I came to know—from someone else—that she was already in a relationship with someone else.

That moment broke me.

She was the only person outside my family who knew what I was going through. I never shared my struggles with anyone else. I always believed I could lean on her, so I stayed strong through everything.

But that day, I cried for the first time.

I didn’t cry when my father had his surgery. I didn’t cry when we found out about his cancer. But losing that emotional support—it shattered something inside me.

Thankfully, my father recovered after radiation therapy. He is doing well now. Around the same time, I started my internship. From my family’s perspective, everything seemed fine.

But only I knew what was going on inside me.

I completed my internship and joined as a full-time employee. I thought maybe things would finally stabilize.

But life wasn’t done yet.

Last year, my mother fell seriously ill and was on bed rest. She had been on psychiatric medication earlier, and after stopping it (under medical advice), she started experiencing side effects.

When a mother falls sick, the whole house feels like it’s falling apart.

She was unwell almost every other day. My father, like many Indian husbands, initially struggled to handle it and often got frustrated, which led to arguments.

Over time, he changed. He became calmer and more patient.

We sent my mother to my grandmother’s house so she could rest properly. After a few months of treatment, she improved and is doing better now.

During this phase, I was also moved to a new team at work with a strict and somewhat toxic manager. Handling deadlines along with everything happening at home left me mentally exhausted.

I even tried going to the gym, but I couldn’t stay consistent.

Around that time, when my mother had gone to my grandmother’s house, I went on a trip to Goa in December, hoping it would help me feel better.

I have always been a simple, introverted person. I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, and I’ve never had any bad habits. I also don’t find much interest in things that people my age usually enjoy—like pubs, parties, malls, branded shopping, or concerts.

Even in Goa, the only thing I truly enjoyed was sitting alone by the beach at night—listening to the waves and looking at the stars.

Everything else—parties, pubs, drinking—didn’t interest me.

That moment felt peaceful.

But it also made me realize how disconnected I feel from the kind of happiness most people seek. In between all this, I also lost some close people—my father’s friend (who supported us during tough times and believed in me), my grandmother, and an uncle.

Every time I attend a funeral, I get lost in thoughts:

What is the meaning of life? If everything ends one day, what’s the point of all this? Why do we chase things that we can’t take with us after we’re gone? After everything that has happened over the past few years, I feel empty.

I feel tired. I’m not able to enjoy life like others, even if I want to. I struggle to think positively. I feel disconnected from people and from what “happiness” seems to mean today.

Most of the time, I feel like:- A failed son A failed lover,friend A failed employee And honestly Idk what to do.