Angst

The fact that I exist continues to get to me.

There’s what’s called existential therapy but it’s all about responsibility

which I’d rather avoid.

Would rather focus on the moment and not think about the future with its unwanted obligations and consequences for not obliging.

Would like my life to be as simple as comfortably possible as I want to avoid such obligations, such responsibilities.

Dis-identify from everything, get closer to being nothing.
Realize that nothing lasts forever so practice nonattachment
and in the process, learn I’m gifted at suppression, but hey whatever works.

Someone told me I have to do things even if I don’t want to, but I think to myself that I don’t even want to be here and, other than die, I don’t really have to do anything;

it’s just the fear of consequences, which wouldn’t threaten me if I didn’t exist.

What I feel matters in this moment comes to not matter to me in the next, paving way to apathy and existential misery.

Wonder if eventually my mind will get enough of this and spontaneously combust—a big bang of meaning
that is likely to collapse and then we’re back where we started.

Death is an assurance that this won’t last forever. As for life, well,

what’s the point of pondering this?

The pointless begets pointlessness.

I don’t want to chase after happiness but would rather find contentment with what already exists.