Want-Big-Meaning and Have-a-Meal

Seven forty on a Friday evening. The screen is still lit on the ninth revision of a promotional banner. The client wants the logo bigger, then wants it smaller again so it can "breathe." The coffee on my left went cold a while ago and left a thin brown ring at the bottom of the glass.

I lift both hands and rub my face. And the question arrives without warning, the way it always does: what am I doing this for?

My name is Vy, I'm thirty-three, and I work in graphic design. The job isn't bad, and the people around me are kind. It's just that on some evenings that question stands right behind my chair, and I know it isn't asking for the kind of answer you hand in. In my head two voices start talking. I wrote down roughly what they said.

Want-big-meaning: Nine revisions on one banner. In five years I'll be sitting in this very chair revising other banners. Where in any of that is the meaning?

Have-a-meal: I don't know. All I know is that down the alley there's a shredded-chicken rice place open until eight thirty, and since noon I've had one bánh mì.

Want-big-meaning: Don't change the subject. I'm asking something serious.

Have-a-meal: I'm serious too. I'm not changing the subject. I'm only pointing at what's in front of me.

Want-big-meaning: But everybody eats rice. I want to do something that people will still mention fifty years from now, or at least something truly useful to someone. That's meaning.

Have-a-meal: Mm. That sounds reasonable. But wait, let me ask: when does this question come most often?

Want-big-meaning: When I'm tired. When I'm doing something repetitive. When I scroll past someone doing something grand.

Have-a-meal: So maybe it isn't a question about fifty years from now. Maybe it's about tonight, about nine revisions, about a person with an empty stomach.

The two voices go quiet for a while. The ceiling fan turns slowly. Somewhere down the alley a rice-paper vendor calls out his wares, the call stretching long and then fading.

Want-big-meaning: Honestly, this is what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid that if it keeps going like this, one day I'll look back and see I passed through a lot of days and not one of them is worth telling. I'm afraid I'll live and leave nothing behind.

Have-a-meal: I hear you. And I'm not saying that fear is wrong. But notice that it asks for something I have no way of checking from this chair. Nobody knows in advance which day will be worth telling. Some days I thought were huge turned out dull, and some I thought were dull took ages to show they mattered.

Want-big-meaning: So I just sit here revising banners and do nothing about the question?

Have-a-meal: No. I'm not saying drop the question. Leave it where it is, ask it when you can. I'm only saying I'm hungry, and the chicken rice place is about to close. Those two things don't cancel each other out.

Want-big-meaning: I don't know what I'm living for.

Have-a-meal: Right. I don't know either. And tonight, not knowing is allowed. Let's go eat first.

I save the file, close the laptop, slide on my sandals. The chicken rice place still has two tables, and the owner is gathering up the cloths. I order a plate and sit on a plastic chair that is still faintly warm from the person before me. The rice is hot, the garlic-chili fish sauce, sour and sweet, touches the tip of my tongue, the fried shallots crunch between my teeth. I eat more slowly than usual, not out of any resolve, only because I'm so hungry that I can finally feel each bite.

The question doesn't disappear. It stays there beside the bowl, like a guest who isn't ready to leave. I don't send it away either. I finish the plate, wash my hands, and walk home, the alley a little quieter tonight than most nights.

Your story may be different. Some people sit beside the same question and still feel unsteady, and that doesn't mean you're doing it wrong. Nobody is requiring you to have a clear purpose by a certain day. "I don't know what I'm living for" is an ordinary thing to sit with, and one way to sit with it is to eat a meal.

There's a line I want to draw clearly. If the feeling of emptiness or pointlessness lasts for weeks, and comes with disrupted sleep or eating, or with no longer enjoying anything, then it's no longer a question to sit with alone. If you are dealing with a mental health problem, please seek out a psychologist. And if there are moments when you think about hurting yourself, tell someone you trust today, then see the Emergency Support page.

This article was created with AI assistance.