"Oh my god, I'm having an existential crisis! Like, what am I even doing here!?" This is an all-too-common hyperbole that is often followed by "I can't even" and "this is the worst." As an all-too-common Millennial myself, I embarrassingly think these more than I should. I overreact and assume I am the only one going through this angst. I am such a troubled artist, I think. If only I didn't feel so much.
Woe. Is. Me.
It's come to my attention that I'm letting my despair define me. As somewhat of an existentialist, this is troubling. I feel that I'm in control of my essence and what I can bring to the world. It's my responsibility to make my life and time here matter; it's not on any religious or political terms. I have the ability to be moral, kind, and inspiring on my own. I want to act as independently and consciously as possible, while understanding that the physical world and the way I've chosen to interact with it have, in fact, affected my perceptions of... well, everything. I know that technically I can do the things I want. But this freedom--this freedom gives me an overwhelming sense of breathlessness. It's scary to feel responsible for your freedom. It's hopeless to feel like you're not being the person you've defined for yourself.
How do we bring ourselves out of existential despair? How do we reach the ever-coveted authenticity we seek as individuals? Heaven forbid, what if it takes someone else to help pull this authenticity to the surface? How do you define yourself then?
How do we make the creative chaotic energy that is the beginning of ourselves--the beginning of this universe--explode into a dancing star?
For me, I guess it's back to the canvas.
*Due credit to Friedrich Nietzche and my college professors who forced me to read his jibber-jabber.