The Bottomless Void We All Try To Fill
I still remember exactly where I was when I heard about Anthony Bourdain’s death. It was June of 2018, and I was in a friend’s basement playing board games when someone checked their phone and stunned us with the news. It was also then that I learned of Kate Spade’s death, who passed just a few days earlier. I didn’t know much about the two, only that one was on TV a lot and the other’s name appeared on a few of my mom’s purses. Two very wealthy and famous individuals, self-exiting one after the other, was shocking and unusual, and I’m sure many people spent time trying to process it.
The question on everyone’s mind was simple: “Why?”
They both seemed to have everything a person could want—fame, money, and success. According to the American Dream, Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain should be among the happiest people. So why did they choose the unhappiest ending for themselves? We’ll never know what truly went through their minds, and I don’t want to reduce their deaths to a case study. Still, I believe it is important that we learn from their lives – if only to help avoid ending up in the same place.
Our Ultimate Goal, The Ultimate Obstacle, And Our Strategy
I believe that everyone’s ultimate goal in life is to be happy. It quietly influences everything from the college we attend to the careers we pursue, the friends we keep, and the hobbies we adopt.
The biggest obstacle to our happiness, however, is the bottomless void within that I am convinced each of us is acutely aware of. This void is especially apparent early in the morning or late at night, when the world is quieter. Those who succeed in being happy are those who figure out how to fill this void, and we each have different strategies for doing so.
Those who succeed in being happy are those who figure out how to fill this void, and we each have different strategies for doing so.
The most socially accepted strategy is making lots of money. But if we take Anthony Bourdain and Kate Spade as examples, I don’t think this strategy works. Money is important – we need it to pay for essentials and the occasional luxury. But when we start viewing money as the source of happiness, that’s when we have a problem.
The Quiet Despair Of Having It All
This is my take on billionaire self-exits: they are among the few people who can choose a strategy for life and pursue it to its absolute limit. They acquire all the money, fame, and success a person could reasonably desire—and still discover it isn’t enough. At that point, all that remains is to stare out into the universe and ask, What else is there for me?
Some respond by switching strategies, endlessly searching for the next thrill or escape—which may explain why so many wealthy figures end up in scandals. Others reach a darker conclusion: that life itself is no longer worth continuing. From the outside, it seems unreasonable. Are they really so miserable in their yachts and mansions that they see no other hope?
I think the answer is yes.
I believe the most miserable people are those who spend their entire lives chasing what they believe will make them happy, finally achieve it, and then discover it cannot satisfy. Despair, to me, is the feeling of running out of options—and that is what happens when a life strategy reaches its end. No matter how full a strategy makes you feel, night eventually falls and the noise fades. Christmas always comes to an end.
The most miserable people are those who spent their entire lives chasing what they believe will make them happy, finally achieve it, and then discover it cannot satisfy.
The Importance Of Connection
So what, then, do I think is the best strategy? Connection. I know it sounds cliché—but clichés are often just truths we’ve collectively verified.
In college, a friend once told me about a date he went on with his girlfriend at the time. They passed a scenic overlook and did what everyone does: they took a selfie. Smiles, click. When she checked the photo, her immediate response was, “We need to retake it.” What followed was several minutes of adjusting angles, expressions, and lighting until she was finally satisfied. Even then, the photo wasn’t finished. Before posting it, she edited it—brightening the image, smoothing details, refining it into something presentable for the world.
After hearing that story, I started paying closer attention to the photos I see on social media and wondered how many of them are first takes. I’d be hesitant to say anything more than five percent. We want to avoid looking careless. We want to be seen at our best. But the question is: why?
The answer is connection. Every time we post something, a quiet thought surfaces almost immediately: What will people think of this? We know—instinctively—that a curated, intentional version of ourselves is more likely to draw others in.
Connection, I believe, is the most effective strategy for filling that bottomless void inside us. Even when we don’t consciously acknowledge it, our behavior betrays us. Social media makes this obvious, but it’s far from the only example. Our fashion choices, the jokes we tell, the way we pause at mirrors to check our appearance—all of it points back to the same desire.
I’ve also noticed this theme in the stories I love most. The best action films are about protecting meaningful relationships. The greatest tragedies are about losing them. Even my favorite anime, Naruto, revolves around both—fighting to preserve connection and suffering when it’s broken.
Avoiding Disconnection
Our fear of disconnection influences us just as strongly. Just as we curate what we share, we also hide the parts of ourselves we think might push people away.
We mold ourselves to match what we think others will want to connect with. I’ve noticed this tendency in myself more times than I’d like to admit. I have a terrible habit of pretending I know about things I actually know nothing about. Someone will ask, “Do you like Led Zeppelin?” and I panic and say yes—even though I couldn’t name a single song.
I do it for a simple reason: I don’t want to seem uncultured, and I don’t want to risk disapproval.
We all carry insecurities— something I’d define as parts of ourselves we fear would cause others to disconnect with us if they were fully seen. There’s a quiet voice in our heads that whispers, If they knew this about me, they’d think less of me. It’s why I instinctively suck in my stomach and tense my abs at the pool. It’s why some people avoid smiling with their teeth.
Insecurities are parts of ourselves we fear would cause others to disconnect with us if they were fully seen.
Social anxiety comes from the fear of disconnection. We’re afraid that if we put ourselves out there, people might find us weird or unlikable. So we withdraw. Even if it means making no connections at all, at least we prevent others from rejecting us. If I never try, I can never fail.
Prioritizing Connection
Most of us would agree, at least intellectually, that relationships are the best path to happiness. And yet we rarely live as if that’s true. When life becomes busy or demanding, relationships are often the first thing we set aside—and that neglect is why so many people end up deeply unhappy.
When I think about my own death, I know it won’t be my bank account, video game achievements, or material possessions that surround me in my final moments or gather at my funeral. If I’m fortunate enough to grow old, it will be my wife, my children (and maybe their children), and the people whose lives I’ve been genuinely and meaningfully connected to.
True Happiness
I could have ended my post there, but my convictions tell me to go one step further. If I genuinely cared about your happiness, I’d be doing you a disservice by not sharing what I believed to be its true source.
As powerful as human connection is, it remains incomplete. We often ask other people to fill a void they were never meant to carry—one they themselves are struggling with.
Most of us have seen where that leads. Relationships strain and sometimes collapse under the weight of impossible expectations: they were too clingy, I couldn’t be what they needed me to be. When we demand that others become our everything, we are almost guaranteed to be disappointed by their imperfections—or to push them away as they buckle under the pressure. They are just as fragile and empty as we are.
There’s also a harsher truth: life is unpredictable. As mortal beings, the people we love most can be taken from us without warning. When that happens, what then? How do we live in a world without them? “Moving on” feels hollow, even cruel. Does that mean true happiness becomes impossible for those who have lost someone they love?
A Desire Beyond This World
I still believe connection is the best strategy. And yet, I’ve spent much of this post arguing for the insufficiency of everything, and everyone, this world has to offer. An infinite void cannot be filled by anything finite. It requires something equally measureless. But does such a thing exist in this world? And where does this bottomless void come from in the first place?
C.S. Lewis once said, “If I find in myself a desire which nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.” The logic goes like this: Every natural desire has a corresponding fulfillment—food for hunger, water for thirst, rest for fatigue. So what about the longing that nothing in this life seems to satisfy?
If I find in myself a desire which nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.
C.S. Lewis
Origin Of The Void
The Bible describes God as a self-sustaining, infinite, and eternal being—bigger than we could ever imagine and more loving than we could ever know. He existed before the universe and created it, and in the middle of all that space, He made our little blue planet.
His most curious creation, however, has to be us. We were each made in His image, yet distinct in our own ways. We were each given free will, and at the same time, He has numbered our days. The Bible makes much of God creating us and knowing us, saying that we were “knit together in our mother’s womb.” But most importantly, He created us to be connected to Him.
The free will that God gave us is essential, but it’s also a double-edged sword. He desires our love to be chosen freely; after all, what love can a robot programmed to do so give? However, that same freedom also means we can choose not to love Him, and in doing so, become disconnected from Him. This is what sin ultimately is: both the choice and its consequence.
Sin, at its core, is choosing not to love, resulting in our disconnection from God.
So what happens when we become disconnected from an infinite and eternal being? We are left with a God-sized void—one that only God Himself can fill. Life, then, becomes a matter of choosing a strategy, but in the end, there is only one that truly works.
The best strategy turns out to also be the simplest. We need to reconnect with the Creator of the universe. What makes it simple is that God reaches out to us first—we only need to be willing to take His hand.
My New Goal
A born-again Christian is someone who has realized the futility of all other strategies and realized the fullness of God. As someone who grew up in a nonreligious family and became a believer in 10th grade, I remember a life dominated by the void. I also remember the feeling of the void evaporating the day I understood God’s love for me.
This is why so much of my writing reflects my faith. The void no longer dominates my life—Christ does, and I am convinced that there is nothing better.
I have achieved the goal in life—I have found true happiness. This is not to say that there aren’t bad days or lonely moments, but I have a hope that is bigger than my circumstances. That hope has given me a new goal, one that drives everything I do now. If you’ve ever questioned a Christian’s intentions, it is this: we want you to experience what we’ve found—God filling the God-sized space in your heart, and with it, true happiness.
