Chapter 1: The Awakening of an Existential Crisis

For a long time, I thought existential crises were a concern for those in mid-life, but everything changed when I faced one at just eighteen. After enduring various setbacks, the most painful of all was my failure to gain admission to any top law schools in India.

In India, the Common Law Admission Test, or CLAT, serves as the gateway to twenty-four National Law Universities (NLUs). Gaining acceptance into these prestigious institutions is a significant honor. The typical rank required for admission is around 2200, but I found myself at 6699. While I can laugh about that now, at the time, I felt utterly devastated. I had always managed to pass my exams, but this failure was a harsh blow.

For four grueling years, I battled depression. Anxiety attacks became frequent, and I constantly felt a churning in my stomach. Despite trying medications, therapy, journaling, and lifestyle changes, nothing seemed to alleviate my suffering. I had come to believe that I would never find relief, and that bleak outlook became my reality.

It’s only in hindsight, now that I'm in my twenties, that I recognize the tumult of adolescence. I was at the mercy of my fluctuating hormones. Yet at that time, I dismissed those considerations. Whether I was battling depression or not, missing the cutoff by over 4000 ranks felt like a straightforward failure.

In the wake of that disappointment, I was consumed by thoughts of worthlessness. I questioned my future, my capabilities, and why I should even continue fighting. When you are as deeply depressed as I was, thoughts of suicide lurk in the background, waiting for the slightest trigger.

This was before I ventured into writing novels or freelancing. The idea of succeeding in CLAT and entering a top NLU was everything to me. Once I fell short, I was left with a profound sense of purposelessness. What was next for me?

Eventually, I enrolled in a private law school and pursued a dual degree in law and business management. But at that moment, I turned to my therapist, whom I'll refer to as Quinn.

Quinn first recommended I read "Man's Search for Meaning." After immersing myself in the profound insights of that book, I began to understand that I was experiencing an existential crisis. Then Quinn suggested something that seemed utterly nonsensical at the time: I should write my own eulogy.

In the video, Millennials Try Writing Their Own Eulogy, individuals explore their life goals and reflect on their personal legacies.

Chapter 2: Understanding the Purpose Behind the Request

At first glance, asking someone battling depression to compose their own eulogy appears counterintuitive. Aren't therapists meant to steer us away from thoughts of death? Yet, I think Quinn understood that my struggle was not with the desire to end my life, but with the urge to overcome my depression.

Death is a constant presence in life, much like the color green in a rainforest. I can still recall standing on a crowded bus when a hearse caught my eye, and I was struck by the reality of mortality.

Despite my initial confusion about the purpose of writing a eulogy, I eventually realized that it serves as a vision for how one wishes to be remembered. What virtues do you want your loved ones to celebrate? What achievements do you hope the world will recognize?

A eulogy is more than just a farewell; it's a legacy. And having something to strive for can rejuvenate those grappling with feelings of aimlessness. Personally, I desire to be someone who is fondly remembered and respected.

Once I grasped this concept, my admiration for Quinn deepened, and I set to work. In a quiet space one afternoon, I contemplated the legacy I wanted to leave behind.

This was my initial draft (though it clearly needed refining):

While my language was awkward, and I cringed at the notion of being d