My existential crisis is pointless

Just wondering about the point of all this – the bureaucratic paperwork, unraveling relationships, being reasonable and creating meaning out of  mundane repetition.

I think about train stations that smell like piss and an old man I once saw shopping for rosaries at the Salvation Army.

Yesterday I was content  making tiny pumpkin books and apple “brownies” and playing Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary among the dirt and flowerpots.  

Today I feel empty. I’m a  nihilist poseur, a label that means nothing because nothing has any meaning. 

I am familiar with this feeling, though I do not understand it. What’s needed is a slice of late afternoon sunlight. It’s not a remedy. It’s magic.


One Response to “My existential crisis is pointless”

  1. Jlaben Says:

    I think you also need a hug…

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