feeling existentially fucked
is actually really selfish if you think about it. the way to “stop caring” about the fact that you are going to “be dead some day and just lie there” is to stop believing that you are the most important sentient being in the universe and to realize that you are pretty insubstantial. this shouldn’t make you feel like “life is meaningless,” it should give you an enormous feeling of relief and freedom. you can actually do whatever you want, pretty much. i feel like it is trendy to be “an existentialist” but it seems like the vast majority of people who like to use the word “existential” in their blogs or kind of okay novels or whatever fail to understand is that existentialism is not a philosphy of despair. it’s about choice. so if you feel like shit you are sort of the only one to blame (including my mentally-ill commrades; take some lexapro and get on with it).
granted, i am an incredibly self-centered and selfish person, as some of you have so kindly pointed out to me, and i totally feel like the temporary nature of my subjectivity is cause for panic. that said, i medicate (legally) so that i can enjoy my fucking short little life and choose to do things that make me stop caring or thinking about the fact that i am mortal. things like fucking, dancing, going on a run, reading a fucking book, or whatever i fucking feel like doing.
anyway, to return to my original point, existentialism is not a philosophy of death, but of life in the face of the absurd.
