I wonder if this is really the way it is supposed to be. Am I supposed to be here, now, doing what I'm doing, feeling how I'm feeling? What if at some point in the past I had spoken up or kept my mouth shut or done the opposite of what I did? Would my life be completely different? Or would all the pieces fall into an identical path? I'm going to be 25 this year. It feels older than it sounds. Or does it sound older than it feels? Whatever, I suddenly feel like I should be somewhere else doing something else. Again. But is anyone else any better off? Should I even compare myself to other people, isn't that kind of futile and stupid? I don't have a lot of regrets, but I think I'd be egomaniacal if I didn't have a few. I wish I'd spoken up in the past about a few things. Damage done by saying too much can be controlled. But remembering what was left unsaid is terribly depressing.
"How am I not myself?"
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There's an absurdity to life, to living when it comes down to it. At times, the existential pangs draw out this Nietzschean loneliest solitude. I doubt my maturation will ever peak by being in the moment. How am I not myself? It compels me to speak as though I were Two.
Side: The soundtrack in me head to Connect the Dots: "Everything I am" - Kanye West
The most depressing part of the existential crisis is knowing that it's completely unoriginal. And the fact that everyone else has the same doubts and questions also makes knowing the most comforting part. Human connection is the point. To life, to survival, to happiness. It must be, right? Certainly, it's the worthwhileness (that may not be a word) of it all.
And thanks for setting my short-lived crisis to music. Especially to my beloved Kanye. I'm certain that if I dyed my hair blonde and got fake tits, he'd realize that we're soulmates. . .
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