Every once in a while I get this indescribable feeling where my brain goes into freak-out mode for just a split second, and it puts me on the verge of having a panic attack. It’s happened a few times over the years, usually after I start thinking about either history or space, the two things I can’t even begin to fathom. I’ll try my best to explain it in a way that can be understood.
There’s this moment where everything falls out-of-place (note, this is mostly unconscious) and I’m just frozen, in awe of how simultaneously implausible and inevitable it is just to exist at all. Can an existential crisis last fifteen seconds? Apparently so.
I feel stupid because of what spurned this feeling this time. A song from a South Park episode called “A Very Crappy Christmas”… that was sung by a poo.
- Considering the last time this happened is when I heard Carl Sagan say “We’re made of star stuff. We are a way for the cosmos to know itself.”
- Sometimes I get scared that a random stranger might walk up to me and say “wake up”, and I’ll find myself just coming out of a coma or in a weird Matrix-like world.
- What if I’m just a character in a Sims game, and the user decides to put me in the swimming pool and take off the ladder?
- Big Bang (or whatever creation idea you subscribe to) –> 13.8 billion years (or 5,000 years or whatever)
–> my life –> who knows how much time
Even the idea that anything happened before I existed blows my mind. How can I verify this? Can I really trust anyone enough to believe them? *shifty eyes* can I trust photographs?! But doesn’t believing death is the end of everything imply that you are the center of the universe? Sounds mighty self-centered to me. I know this, but there’s a tiny piece of me that can’t fathom life continuing after I cease to exist. As much as I try to explain it to myself, that fraction of my brain is unconvinced. I don’t understand life… At all.
Either this happens to everybody from time to time, or I’m just hell-bent on obsessing over what I can’t understand. I realize there’s not really a message to this post, but I had to write something about this feeling. I’ve been thinking of reading some existentialist literature and philosophy, but I’m not sure if that will make it better or worse.
Queue Ice Cube’s “It Was a Good Day”
Hey wait, wait a minute Pooh, stop this shit
What the fuck I’m thinkin’ about?