Existential Crisis Meme Novels & Stories

Rhalia fired off, followed by a slew of red flags and eggplant emojis. "I don't know how you did it, but girl... It's been what? Almost a year?? And you still don't feel the urge to jump that absolute Adonis??" Liora added with her signature dramatic flair. I felt heat rush up my neck as I fumbled with my phone, frantically typing, "Oh my God, guys-", but before I could send it, Maelis delivered the kill shot. It was a meme of dogs humping in full force, with the caption: "Don't be shy, sweetheart. If you need tips, I can help. 😈💅"

You’re free—but also suddenly, frighteningly alone. I stood by the window, coffee cooling in my hands, watching people move below. Runners. Taxis. Street vendors setting up carts. Ordinary life, continuing with almost offensive normalcy. “How can everything look the same?” I murmured. Rico came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Because the world never stops for existential crises. It just schedules them quietly inside people.” I leaned back against him. “I keep expecting something to fail. Like the systems will suddenly realize they don’t have a god anymore and panic.”

This is what love does to someone like me it destroys me from the inside out. Timothy's black sports car sits in the circular driveway, and I wonder if Madison is inside with him right now. Probably planning their future together while laughing about the pathetic Omega who thought she had a chance. My phone buzzes with another notification. Someone has created a meme using a screenshot from the video my face photoshopped onto a picture of a homeless dog peering through a restaurant window. The caption reads: "When you're an Omega but think you deserve Alpha attention." The comments are even worse:

CHAPTER THREE Charlotte. Two days had passed since the diagnosis, two days I had spent lying in bed wondering what the point of life was. It felt a little bit funny to me that I had never really pondered over life and its meaning or meaninglessness until now. I mean I was familiar with nihilism, absurdism and similar concepts, but now I was faced with my rapidly approaching end, I was experiencing an awful, stomach-churning existential crisis. I found myself avoiding thinking of the concept of time and how it was always in motion; I even avoided looking at any clocks at all. Online, I read a post that said "time isn't passing, we are" and almost hurled my phone against the wall. Every second

Abby walked Muller to the door as Max ate the last of his yogurt. “I’m sorry, my sweets. Last night shouldn’t have gone down like that. I was an idiot,” Kris said with a remorseful tone. “You did act like a bit of an asshole. You cannot drive drunk; you’ll endanger others.” “I’m going through a tough time. They all died. Why did I survive?” “I don’t know, but I’m here to help. If you’re having a rough day, don’t reach for the bottle, just call me. Maybe you need to see a therapist?”

I don’t care how much it costs as long as they receive the justice they deserve. I went down my newsfeed because I didn’t want to read any more fallacies. They were feeding people falsehoods to poison their minds. While scrolling down, I came across an advertisement that piqued my curiosity. Are you alive but feel dead? So why don’t you add value to your worthless life? Or perhaps are you looking for money? Why not exchange it for your life? We are seeking a new participant to join us at Live Suicide!

“Your name’s in the caption. ‘Local businessman’s café explodes in mocha mayhem.’ Congratulations. You’re a meme.” “I’m going to fire everyone,” Max muttered. “You can’t fire them,” Landon said. “They’re already traumatized. One of the waiters won’t stop twitching every time he hears a milk frother.” Suzi leaned against the arm of the couch, giggling. “You have to admit, it’s kind of iconic.” “I’m not calling an insurance claim over coffee foam and memes,” Max said darkly. “Actually, you are,” Landon replied. “Because the insurance adjuster is on her way, and she says she needs a statement from one of the owners. That’s you, buddy.”

There were another few dozen texts, all along the same lines and starting around the time I’d met Zane. Could they be from Scott? Maybe. They might also be from anyone else whose name began with “S,” or any other letter. You couldn’t tell anything from online names, except sometimes that someone had a sense of humor or when they put their ideology in their name, like KillAllHumans142. I went back to my main feed and found a photo of Jordan giving his brief speech, along with a few-dozen comments about his age and declaring him attractive. It seemed harmless. It was there, however, that I found a meme I greatly disliked. It showed my face on a white wolf’s body with wings. The wolf was also d

Holy shit, this was really happening. Finally. It was strange blinking back to my real life and my real body. Every time I was online I kind of got lost in the virtual world. My psychiatrist called it escapism. I called it relief from existential crisis and the utter fucking tedium of this world. Tedium? Not for much longer. Not if Beast was really who I thought he was. Unable to resist, I clicked through to the screenshots I’d kept of his response to my post in the definitely not government sanctioned forum called Weirdos Whackos and Freaks Playground.