Hitting a Personal Existentialist Wall
I don't know where my life is heading into. The last few days I have felt very unmotivated to do anything, so all I have been doing runs the same simple cycle: eating, sleeping, and working, and repeat. In all years of my life this is perhaps the first time that I feel that my mind is blank and void of any dreams or goals. Now I don't feel exactly sad (although there are a few short episodes), but I feel that I am entering some nihilistic dilemma.
I feel that there is no purpose in trying or working hard for any goals. I have come to the point that I believe that my life and existence is nothing more than a false illusion, or at least a small series of false illusions. I have seen some of my most important beliefs and ideas being shattered over and over again so that they are not worth fighting for anymore. I no longer know what "truth" is, even for me. I have found this reality to be quite chaotic and distorted. Unfortunately, some of my co-workers and family have noticed my change in attitude and easily attribute it to me being a "bad" person. These few days I have engaged in some activities that I normally don't do such as drinking more and smoking, among a few. Is there another "true" reality for me? Is my life nothing more than a lie like a crumpled-up piece of paper discarded by a novelist like any bad plot?
I feel that that I have one body (my shell), one soul, and two minds and I can sense the difference between the two, although they are in conflict. Yet, I sense that there is another reality where my life would have taken a very different turn being optimistic, goal-driven, ambitious, and using the best of my ideas, knowledge and creativity to the fullest and to my advantage, complete with milestones I could always look back to for inspiration. At the same time while I know I would be very happy with this alternate reality, it all seems very strange and distant for me. I know I may have all the potential of making this reality come to life, I just cannot come to bring it all out. It may just result into another false illusion. No, no matter what!
If there was a way for anyone else to feel what I feel other than through my words, I think this little piece of music does describes it pretty well:
Jan Boerman's Tellurisch
I feel that there is no purpose in trying or working hard for any goals. I have come to the point that I believe that my life and existence is nothing more than a false illusion, or at least a small series of false illusions. I have seen some of my most important beliefs and ideas being shattered over and over again so that they are not worth fighting for anymore. I no longer know what "truth" is, even for me. I have found this reality to be quite chaotic and distorted. Unfortunately, some of my co-workers and family have noticed my change in attitude and easily attribute it to me being a "bad" person. These few days I have engaged in some activities that I normally don't do such as drinking more and smoking, among a few. Is there another "true" reality for me? Is my life nothing more than a lie like a crumpled-up piece of paper discarded by a novelist like any bad plot?
I feel that that I have one body (my shell), one soul, and two minds and I can sense the difference between the two, although they are in conflict. Yet, I sense that there is another reality where my life would have taken a very different turn being optimistic, goal-driven, ambitious, and using the best of my ideas, knowledge and creativity to the fullest and to my advantage, complete with milestones I could always look back to for inspiration. At the same time while I know I would be very happy with this alternate reality, it all seems very strange and distant for me. I know I may have all the potential of making this reality come to life, I just cannot come to bring it all out. It may just result into another false illusion. No, no matter what!
If there was a way for anyone else to feel what I feel other than through my words, I think this little piece of music does describes it pretty well:
Jan Boerman's Tellurisch