FOMO

Lately, I’ve been grappling with FOMO (Fear of Missing Out)—this modern-day pestilence, the plague of the soul. This insidious affliction tightens its grip on me as time races forward without so much as a glance backward. I act in constant anxiety and dread of missing even the smallest moments, only to succumb to sorrow over what I’ve already lost.  

As my soul wrestles with all these fleeting moments—utterly alone, without a single ally—Marcus Aurelius came to my rescue. His Meditations offered me a perspective from the 2nd century on what I’ve deemed the "consumption of the modern world," with these magnificent words:  

"If one of the gods told you, ‘You shall die tomorrow or at the latest the day after,’ you would scarcely care whether it was the next day or the one after—unless you were utterly spineless. For what difference does it make? So too, recognize that there is little difference between dying tomorrow or years from now." 

But is it truly so? Is dying tomorrow really no different from dying many years later? At first, this profound thought plunged me into melancholic contemplation. Because whenever death is mentioned, my subconscious seems to scream at me to flee. And I know it’s not just me—this is true for many. Terror Management Theory even suggests that one reason "sex" is taboo across most civilizations is because it’s an act that reminds us of death. Forgetting the existence of death makes life more bearable, doesn’t it? After all, does a mortal life truly hold any value? "Am I really just like those ephemeral beings who live out their brief lives in the shadow of millions of years, despite all I’ve done?" Homo sapiens, the master of self-deception, earnestly whispers, "Death isn’t real"—without even realizing it.  

I say the same with confidence even for those who adhere to religions that promise an afterlife. Despite their beliefs, they live as if they are immortal. This latest model of humanity, constantly face-to-face with death, having lost countless loved ones, clings inexplicably to its faith in its own immortality. It flees from anything that might remind it of the truth. So why do we run from death, which Aurelius reduces to such simplicity?  

Moreover, while all the people I consider capable of transcendental thought trivialize death, ignorant societies prioritize life—and, by extension, spectacle. Every element in this train of thought that began with FOMO feels like a link in a chain. Aurelius’ insight lit up a bulb in my mind: There is no great difference between dying tomorrow and dying much later. Because even if tomorrow were the most beautiful day of my life, it wouldn’t really be something worth lamenting over. And even if I were happy every single moment of a long life (which is impossible, for happiness cannot exist without sorrow), that still wouldn’t be something worth clinging to. Hence, we shouldn’t exaggerate the importance of living—or of what we fail to experience.  

And yet, it infuriates me that 18 individuals (in Turkey in the last month alone) from this magnificent, technologically advanced latest model of humanity have flipped their switches due to something as pitiful as a tick-borne pathogen. Perhaps this is a sign that, despite all our progress, we still haven’t reached "god tier"—or that the breaths we take remain insignificant and worthless. That’s why you should diminish your life and yourself, striving to live in harmony with nature. Of course, all this diminishing must be done in a way that won’t be noticed and exploited by malicious people... Or let it be. When you think about it, isn’t even that something vanishingly small and meaningless? Just like us...  

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