This thread exists for your existential crisis... or does it?

[jayseven]

An upbeat short story that elaborates on the sentimental/spiritual idea behind my general belief,, which is similar to what Sheikah mentioned, above.

 

This thread is really encompassing several different, yet interesting topics. Existentialism, death, paranoia and, seemingly, a bit of old-fashioned spirited teen angst to garnish it. But they are, duh, interconnected and it is hard to avoid swinging through them all.

 

I'm surprised we haven't hit on morality yet.

 

Anyway, in response to several people's fears of living a shit life/being forgotten/not existing; I find that while these anxieties may never go away, they fade with age because you are forced, through responsibilities and commitments, to worry about other smaller shit, thus taking your mind off of things.

 

By existing, I find it very tricky to simply do what is done without questioning it. I find it hard to ever accept something is simple when, like the 'life' an atom has led since the dawn of the universe, there's just a lot more to things.

 

RAR RAR WTF WARKWNFL

 

I worry about my existence all the time. I don't (anymore) revolve the world around my own existence, rather I am hugely aware of the minds operating behind all those eyeballs you see daily. If the person on the till at tescos is rude to me, there's a reason for it, an intellectial thought process that is in itself concerned with its existence, so who am I to take offence? Who am I to put my own existence, my own emotional reaction, ahead of another's?

 

I don't get paranoid (much...) anymore, but I do still spend a lot of my thought processes analysing what other people are thinking - trying to guess, i suppose, their reasoning or their emotional state. This essentially means I say things like "I think i've said this to you before" because I know what it's like when someone repeats a story they've told me, I'll think of what I want to say, then think of how to say it, then think of how it will sound, then think of how it could potentially be responded to, and try my best to not 'lose' out of my own error... if that makes any sense. I like getting drunk because it slows my thinking down.

 

omigod there's far too much to talk about/go off on tangents on/ramblerambleramble.

 

I want to post again later but more structured but the only thing I truly know about Future Me is that he is stunningly more lazy than Present Me.

 

Have a medal.

[Aimless]

Worrying about not existing seems contradictory to me. Most people spend huge chunks of their lives striving towards escapism — be it through drink, drugs or just reading a book — and oblivion is simply the purest form of that; no worries, no responsibilities, no cares at all. Non-existence is devoid of all life's worries by definition, there isn't even a morning after to fret about.

[Dannyboy-the-Dane]

I don't worry as much about death as I worry about not being able to do all the things I want to do in time. I'm afraid I'll lose out on something before I get around to doing it. Today I realised I'll probably never have the time to properly learn how to play both the piano and violin when I also want to reach the black belt in karate at some point. I only just turned 19, and I already fear getting old and losing all the benefits of being young. That's kind of depressing.

 

In general, though, I'm happy with my life, and damn it, I should be! I don't think there's one thing in my life that I should have the privilege of being unhappy about since I've been so lucky all my life. Despite being born with a severe mental disorder, I've actually managed to overcome it pretty much completely, only having minor psychological issues left that are probably not as serious as those of many "normal" people.

 

Yet I still often become depressed, and that depression always revolves around my low self-esteem and romantic relationships (or lack thereof). You've all experienced how I am when I'm at my low points. It's aggravating and soul-crushing, but I seem to manage - which I always seem to do because I'm so goddamn stubborn - and overall I'm very happy about my life. Like everyone, I just seem to forget and take for granted how lucky I am.

[Diageo]

I don't worry as much about death as I worry about not being able to do all the things I want to do in time. I'm afraid I'll lose out on something before I get around to doing it. Today I realised I'll probably never have the time to properly learn how to play both the piano and violin when I also want to reach the black belt in karate at some point. I only just turned 19, and I already fear getting old and losing all the benefits of being young. That's kind of depressing.

 

In general, though, I'm happy with my life, and damn it, I should be! I don't think there's one thing in my life that I should have the privilege of being unhappy about since I've been so lucky all my life. Despite being born with a severe mental disorder, I've actually managed to overcome it pretty much completely, only having minor psychological issues left that are probably not as serious as those of many "normal" people.

 

Yet I still often become depressed, and that depression always revolves around my low self-esteem and romantic relationships (or lack thereof). You've all experienced how I am when I'm at my low points. It's aggravating and soul-crushing, but I seem to manage - which I always seem to do because I'm so goddamn stubborn - and overall I'm very happy about my life. Like everyone, I just seem to forget and take for granted how lucky I am.

 

You're 19 and you're worried its too late to learn piano and violin? You have like at least 50 years left!

 

Can I ask what the mental disorder is? Or is that too personal?

[Dannyboy-the-Dane]

You're 19 and you're worried its too late to learn piano and violin? You have like at least 50 years left!

 

Can I ask what the mental disorder is? Or is that too personal?

No, that was perhaps an unclear way of expressing myself. While I could probably learn both piano and violin if I really set myself up for it, the point is that at some point, I'll simply run out of time. And my ability to do things will decrease a great deal a long time before that. I'm pretty happy with my status quo, but I often think about all the things I could be doing. Essentially, I'm not afraid of death and whatever lies beyond - I'm afraid of running out of time and possibilities. I'm afraid of growing old.

 

It's not at all too personal. I've often mentioned on N-E before. I was born with autism, and it started out quite heavy. Through psychiatrical help it became something closer to Asperger syndrome, and as of late my psychiatrist won't even really call it autism anymore. Everything I've ever had trouble with mentally is and has been connected to my autism (or what's left of it), including my current issues with self-esteem and fear of running out of time.

[Frank]

I feel that this story fits into the theme of this thread.

It's a short story by Andy Weir and well worth a read if you have about 5 minutes to spare.

 

 

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.

And that’s when you met me.

“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”

“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.

“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”

“Yup,” I said.

“I… I died?”

“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”

“More or less,” I said.

“Are you god?” You asked.

“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”

“My kids… my wife,” you said.

“What about them?”

“Will they be all right?”

“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. You wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”

“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”

“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”

“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”

“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”

You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”

“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”

“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”

I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.

“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”

“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”

“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”

“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”

“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”

“Where you come from?” You said.

“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”

“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”

“So what’s the point of it all?”

“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”

“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.

I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”

“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”

“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”

“Just me? What about everyone else?”

“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”

You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”

“All you. Different incarnations of you.”

“Wait. I’m everyone!?”

“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

“I’m every human being who ever lived?”

“Or who will ever live, yes.”

“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”

“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.

“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.

“And you’re the millions he killed.”

“I’m Jesus?”

“And you’re everyone who followed him.”

You fell silent.

“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”

You thought for a long time.

“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”

“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”

“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”

“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”

“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”

“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”

And I sent you on your way.

[jayseven]

Yeah great story. It just felt so familia--

 

Thanks for reading my post.

 

Dickheads.

[Ville]

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Edited September 13, 2021 by Ville

[jayseven]

It's a thing I have. Now that threads aren't a gazillion pages long it's just that much more offensive when people skip your post then take all credit when they say the same thing.

 

BLEH!

[Ville]

-

Edited September 13, 2021 by Ville

[Diageo]

It's a thing I have. Now that threads aren't a gazillion pages long it's just that much more offensive when people skip your post then take all credit when they say the same thing.

 

BLEH!

Edit: Damn, took too long and Ville beat me, but I will keep the post here regardless.

 

Calm down, it is way more likely for people to read the story if it is written directly in the post than if it is a link. I for one did not skip your post, just your link. I do not think the story is that great but regardless, the credit for finding that story is not immense. It is easily forgotten, even if the story is remembered. Also, one post would have got your point across.

 

 

Recently I have discovered that many of the friends I hang around with most, believe in things I find preposterous. It is not religion, even though I would classify it as so, but it is Chakras, Ghosts, Auras and Psychics. Some even say they can see the auras, and found out a lot about me just as we met. Anyway I was surprised, and just thought it somewhat fit in here.

[Emasher]

Some even say they can see the auras, and found out a lot about me just as we met. Anyway I was surprised, and just thought it somewhat fit in here.

 

It sounds like they're trying to justify any prejudices they might have, regardless of weather those are good or bad.

[Diageo]

It sounds like they're trying to justify any prejudices they might have, regardless of weather those are good or bad.

 

Can you elaborate, this sounds interesting.

[Emasher]

They're saying that they 'just know' things about you, and I'm going to guess other people as well, without actually knowing you, I think most people are going to agree that you can't just know something about someone, you actually have to look at them, and judge them based on what you know about them. Obviously since they haven't actually had a chance to get to know you, all the information they have about you is based on your outward appearance, and other things like that. This is essentially the definition of prejudice. From a very early age, at least where I live, we're told that we're not supposed to judge someone without actually getting to know them, ect. Prejudice is quite natural because sight is one of our most (if not our most) dominant senses. Our survival has depended on being able to look at something and be able to asses it before it can harm us. Because we don't want to look like we're judging people like this, as its been drilled into us that its bad, it seems possible that their mind might create the idea of something like an aura so that they can judge people like that, but not think they are.

 

If that makes any sense.

[Diageo]

They're saying that they 'just know' things about you, and I'm going to guess other people as well, without actually knowing you, I think most people are going to agree that you can't just know something about someone, you actually have to look at them, and judge them based on what you know about them. Obviously since they haven't actually had a chance to get to know you, all the information they have about you is based on your outward appearance, and other things like that. This is essentially the definition of prejudice. From a very early age, at least where I live, we're told that we're not supposed to judge someone without actually getting to know them, ect. Prejudice is quite natural because sight is one of our most (if not our most) dominant senses. Our survival has depended on being able to look at something and be able to asses it before it can harm us. Because we don't want to look like we're judging people like this, as its been drilled into us that its bad, it seems possible that their mind might create the idea of something like an aura so that they can judge people like that, but not think they are.

 

If that makes any sense.

 

That does make sense and could be a very accurate description of why they are behaving in this manner. Although the people that believe in this are my very close friends, and so I feel uneasy questioning them. I can't help but wonder their reasoning behind it.

[Sheikah]

Yeah great story. It just felt so familia--

 

Thanks for reading my post.

 

Dickheads.

Haha, I read your post. :p

 

A fun read.

[Frank]

Eek! Sorry Jayseven :S

I actually read your post which had the link in it but I didn't even realize that there was a link. If I'd known I wouldn't have posted the same story

 

[jayseven]

Cheers I've calmed down a bit! I will take note and avoid urls in future.

[Ganepark32]

My apologies for what will be a wall of text but I wanted to chime in some thoughts. I salute you if you read this entirely.

 

I think like most people, I occasionally fret about whether I’m making the most of my life, although I think more recent events put me into a seeming never-ending spiral where this inhabited my thoughts more than it perhaps should have. It’s strange because I don’t feel any worry for my existence or feel the need to question it as much as others do (I’ll explain what I mean here later) but like others, the constant need to question oneself in regards to some of the most basic things are constant pre-occupiers. Granted, I still question existence because it’s human nature to question the things around us and the things we don’t quite have a grip on. Without it, where would we be? There’d be no scientific advancement, the arts probably wouldn’t exist in such a broad sense as they do now and other things would simply languish in a state of stagnation.

 

Why are we here? What is my purpose? Is there a meaning to my existence? And most importantly, who am I? These things have and still course through my mind from time to time but I never really get too worked up about the potential answers to most of them and whether the ideas I’ve put forward as answers actually equate to such.

 

I think as we get older, a lot of these questions we have in regards to our existence are simply answered by themselves. We don’t physically search out the answers as such but make the characteristic choices that shape our person, both physically and mentally, and through these come the answers to most of our questions. We’ll always have unanswered questions to our individual existences but worrying about them or spending too much time trying to resolve them is much worse than having an existential crisis or worrying whether you’re making the most of your life. Obviously, it’s about perspective and being able to look at what you’re doing and adjusting to where you want to go or what you think you should be doing.

 

Take me for example. This idea of whether I’m making the most of my life is something that’s crossed my mind all too often and its culminated now in the point where I’ve come to the realisation, through reflecting on everything I’ve done and not done, that I feel I should be doing more which is why my mainline of thinking at the moment has centred around trying to come up with a list of 30 things I want/need to do before I’m 30. It’s by no means a concrete list that’ll conform to the rigidity of time, because I think too many adults ‘grow up’ if you will and forget that life is about the enjoyment and the smaller things, but it’s a list of things that I’ll push myself to do because they’ll add to the experience of life. You know, people would look at some of the stuff I’ve put down and think “Well, how is learning to surf or doing a bungee jump going to add any sense of meaning to life?” and really all I can say to that is in giving my answer to this question: ‘What is the meaning of life?’ To me, life’s meaning comes from every single small, minute moment and the enjoyment we gain from them at the time but, more importantly, when we look back on them. Yes, the big ones mean something and perhaps have a more profound effect on our lifestyle but really, it’s the small moments that shape our character and ultimately, as I see it, shape our existence.

 

To go back to an earlier point, when I said I don’t really worry about my existence, I mean this: the number of times I’ve heard people talking about whether we exist or not, be it ordinary people or lectures (we’ve discussed it heavily in English tutorials at Uni), is in high figures. It’s an interesting debate and one I enjoy getting into because it provides a genuine intellectual conversation where even the most obscure, or craziest, theory could be correct because we don’t have a generalisation we can use for life. Anything we come up with, such as my earlier point, may only perhaps apply to me and a small number of others so we’ll always be questioning whether we’re part of a dream or a memory. We could be but the more I think about these possibilities, I move further away from them. To be living as we are is to experience things through sensations and through our emotions. If we were a dream or a memory, we wouldn’t have the physical and mental stimulation we get from say someone touching our arm or from thinking a happy thought. In a dream or memory, we could see these things happening but ultimately, such is the shallowness of these encounters, it’d only act as a recounting of a living, physical or mental act rather than an actual occurrence which could equate to an existence (if people get what I mean). In the most basic of terms, I think I’m trying to say that to feel really is to prove our existence. I think I’ve strayed into something that’s too complicated to explain given my choice of words. Perhaps I’ll take another crack at it another time.

 

Anyway, yes, wall of text. Ha. So to summarise, I do question my life like everyone else but not really my existence, which needs further explanation I think at a later point.

[Diageo]

I think if life had a meaning, and we all knew it. Then that would be all everyone would do and life would not be very fulfilling.