Thursday, June 6, 2013

The Existential Crisis

Every now and then we all have one. It's an inevitable rite of passage, like puberty, but without the emotional turmoil of having to wait for your sex organs to grow. It's also a mouse trap, with cheese imported from a small village in Switzerland as bait. It's Pandora, opening up her box and unleashing a plethora of questions that start with who, what, when, where, why and how. It's a lot of things actually but what it really is is an existential crisis.

One in which everything changes as time stands still. One in which knowing means nothing and not knowing is worse. One in which synapses short circuit, brain spins out of control, and the central nervous system starts to second guess itself, and just like that, everything you once thought you knew is replaced by trivia you had forgotten to think about. Such as.

God is an illusion who lives inside a magician's overactive imagination from which he then goes and pulls a white rabbit out of the hat. Death is a game of dominoes, but with twenty eight blank tiles, and sooner or later we are all expected to play yet neither one of us knows how. People die, bodies decompose, and we are never to hear from them again, and if we do, well, if we do, something's not quite right. Life on other planets could be the equivalent to death on this one. Success is not about how many certificates you've got hanging on your wall but about how you feel on the inside after you've hung them. Having a strong career doesn't mean anything unless it gives you something worth waking up for in the morning.

Humans cannot fly but children almost certainly can. Earth is not flat but in another world it could be. Life is an unfinished sentence because she who was writing it didn't think it –

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