Why do we exist?
What is existence?
What is the point of anything?
Does my life really matter outside of myself?
Death is inevitable.
We are all alone.
The privilege of freedom is overwhelming.
Ignorance is bliss.
Consciousness is merely a biological process.
Time extends before and after my life.
Purposes are distractions and vice versa.
What's for lunch?
Infinity is incomprehensible.
If you're constantly telling yourself the statements listed above, in the words of Dan Howell; you're having an existential crisis. God do I hate having these thoughts, but mine seem to be more evil and scary, they're dangerous and shouldn't even exist in my mind, but they do.
It was about 12am, I couldn't sleep nor could I even concentrate so I got up and left my house, trying not to wake my parents.
I started walking through the dark, cold streets seeing the street lights shine, but not as bright as the moon. The moon shone the brightest, illuminating the world below.
"Oh sorry," i heard someone mumble before I fell back, my poor bum smacking the ice cold ground, god do I hate winter. "Are you alright?" He stuck his hand out for me to grab. I politely took it and dusted myself off.
"No that was my fault; I should have been looking where I was going," I looked away for some reason and rubbed my eyes – I wasn't sleepy though, not at all.
Non of us knew what to say, we both seemed way too awkward to go our separate paths but in no hurry to leave anytime soon.
"I'm Calum," he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Michael," awkwardness thick in the air as I coughed, it felt like I was almost suffocated.
"Nice to, uh, meet you, Michael," he looked down. "Uh, I um, I gotta go." With that said, he left.
"Nice to meet you too, Calum." I said to nothing in particular, sighing softly as I carried on with my walk.
Fuck I forgot my jacket.
this was really bad but idk I wanna post it, also damn I have like five books now aye be proud.