The existential crisis of being

I have been feeling heavy lately.

It’s  the type of thing that feels both deeply personal and internal, yet completely removed from the self and wholly cosmic.  I want to curl into a ball and weep because of the evanescence of the world, and of myself.  And at the same time, I do not care about anything at all.

These perfectly summarise my state of being:

Nothing but Death
"...like a shipwreck we die going into ourselves,
as though we were drowning inside our hearts,
as though we lived falling out of the skin into the soul." ~ Pablo Neruda

"I have seen everything that is done under the sun, and behold; all is vanity
and a striving after wind."

This might look like depression to someone who is familiar with it, but I have had depression, and this is not it.  I like to think of depression as something external.  Many artists demonstrate it as a monster of sorts, influencing you from the outside.  When I was in the midsts of the depression, I wanted to write a post called “Forgive me my Consort”, where ‘my consort’ is depression; a jealous, cruel, possessive lover that tells me what to do, say and feel, how to treat, mistreat others.  That is how I experience depression; it doesn’t feel like me…  I feel like a puppet being controlled by something other than myself.  I’ve also described it as drowning inside a black, thick cloud that surrounds me where ever I go.  My point is; it’s visually external to myself.

What I’m experiencing now, is not depression.  It is not an external cloud threatening to drown me.  It is the truest me there is.  What is the meaning of your existence? Will you cause a butterfly effect with your life, or will you disappear out of memory, out of history?  Even if you are someone like Elon Musk, Isaac Newton, Einstein…. even if you are remembered in 500 years…. what does it matter?  You will be dead, and your reverence will mean nothing to you.  I am caught between two poles of thought here, all boiling down to one question:  What’s the point?

The average person lives to be around 68 years old.  That is NOTHING.  I will go to sleep as a young woman some day soon, and when I open my eyes again, I will be old, brittle and forgotten.

I’m turning 27 this year, and I am NOT where I thought I’d be when I dreamed about the future as a young girl.  What is the future anyway? As I typed that sentence the future was happening.  I am 26 right now.  I am 84 as I type this sentence; that is how quickly life passes.

The world is so messed up.  Our leaders are corrupt, unwise, without integrity, gluttonous beasts.  Worse still is that they reflect their people. Left is Right, Right is left.  Conservative is Liberal, Liberal is Conservative.  The rebel is a hero, heroes are rebels.  Up is down, Down is up.  Free speech is offensive.  Mental illness is a trendy accessory.  Mental illness is a right.  Being sound minded and backing science is bigotry and hateful.  Social media and the internet has made us strangers, has disconnected us.  Love your neighbour, unless he disagrees with him, then you must slander him into submission.  Reason is racism (SONA2017). Uranium is nuclear weapons and things and stuff and other dangerous things.

The earth is groaning, and I’m groaning with it.

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One thought on “The existential crisis of being

  1. The earth is groaning love, and long for the sons of God to be revealed. It’s not just a philosophy, it is indeed very, very, real. As you experience.
    But the Son of Righteousness has risen with healing in his wings. We were made for such a time as this. The tide has turned and there is no more delay.
    All acts of darkness by governments and authorities and leaders are being exposed by The Light for what it is and cannot be hidden anymore. That is what is going on.

    Love you xxx

    Like

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