Existential Musings - Tumblr Posts

"I wanted only to live in accord with the promptings which came from my true self. Why was that so very difficult?"

-Hermann Hesse, Demian: A Story of Emil Sinclair.-

(Artwork The Great Century by René Magritte)

"This very heart which is mine will forever remain indefinable to me. Between the certainty I have of my existence and the content I try to give to that assurance, the gap will never be filled. Forever I shall be a stranger to myself."

-Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus.-

(Artwork The Red Cloud by David De Las Hera.)

One of the most influential books I have read in my life. Almost disturbing but thoroughly reassuring as well. Man's struggle between meaning and absurd, between suffering and redemption, between the self and the non-self; what does it take? How is one supposed to carry on living a life of contrast, of contradiction, things working for and against at the same time? On the face of the essential absurdity of life, what should a man do, understand and think? The book is by all means an embodiment of existentiel crisis, an anxiety attack, (a bit tedious) but it also gives the reassurance, the quiet that follows. It tells you things you don't know, things you already know, things you heard of but it's more articulate, eloquent, cohesive, and synchronized. Camus is one of the best.

i'm really going thru the whole 'do i really want this career or do i just dont want to starve when i'm older' stages

and let me tell you, after days of existencial dread and a look into my bank account ive come to the realization that self satisfaction will have to wait

financial security here i come *finger guns*

are we even that hopeless? or are we just tired of watching the news everyday and get saturated of how many people die everyday? of how many people suffer in uncountable ways and we are helpless in the face of it all? in the face of the corrupt? of the consequences of human made disasters?

are we even that delusional? or are we just tired that our dreams might never come true because the arts, as beautiful as they are, are meaningless to capitalism and paints and pretty words dont make money

am i even that bitter? or am i just so alone and in need of a hug and just want to lie in the middle of a forest and let the world just swallow me and to never have to think again? do i just want to lie here with you waiting for the world to end for it to be only ours when everyone else is gone?

am i even who i present myself to be? or am i the persona that created the least problems for those around me and have nailed that skin so hard into my bones i cannot move without feeling it constraints against my soul?