Existential Crisis

 

The most modern, up-to-date, sophisticated time of our life is now. Is that true? I guess it is. You can only imagine things for the future, but future only comes true if it’s present. You can plan this and that but whether or not it worked will only be seen when it’s in the past. Then why stress so much about the future if the future is the present? It’s only the future because of the matter of a second of unknowingness. You plan to get ahead of yourself in the future, to avoid the mistakes you made in the past, to become that what you’ve always wanted, to get that what you’ve always dreamed of. We’re always so scared of being poor, being like the poor, the homeless, the sick, or the combination of all three. Isn’t that such a deep fear we all have? But why fear that when we can fear ourselves? That we somehow don’t manage to become that what we’ve always wanted? Or is it the same kind of fear? 

Is it wrong to think about the future in a way that it’s not wished? Like when there’s turbulence and you’re on a plane and you wish to just go down with the plane instead? Is the future only for positiveness? Why don’t we prepare ourselves for the worst possibility possible? Why do we make the future the big idea of ourselves rather than creating it right here right now? Why does it have to always be wise? Because we age or because the stereotype is that you get wiser when you get older? Is that even a real thing? Why do we want to live further? What for?

This is not me being tired of life. This is me questioning the real essence of it. I wanna know what people celebrate tomorrow, what feeling they wake up with, what feeling they go to sleep with, why we wake up sad, or happy, or annoyed, whether or not people are living on the edge all the time or if it is only me, and so on. Is this what an existential crisis really is? Are these questions even important enough to be answered or is it safer and better to just let them sink with time? But I wonder, if it were safer to just sink them with time, I don’t know what I should live with anymore. These questions keep me alive. Because there were times in my life where I thought of nothing anymore, and the thought of endings came instead. So I suppose by letting these questions live, I let myself live as well. It’s not bad to question life, it’s bad to not get their answers. Because if this is really an existential crisis, and you don’t get the resolutions to your crisis, you’re practically nonexistent.