ive been feeling so fatigued lately; all my time spent doing things that should relax me feels so existential. i’ve been this way since i was a young girl, so it isn’t novel to feel like my brain operates on constant treadmill mode: running, trying to catch up to something, and yet there is never anything to catch up to.
i am plagued by this dread about the wider world. my life is great, and even if it wasnt i know i would find a way to believe it was, im not sad, i never am. i think i just cant believe the context in which i live my happy life, i feel guilty that im watching a genocide through my pink iphone 13 from the comfort of my starry dkny bedsheets in camden. and i feel overwhelmed that i have to do normal things when the world is on fire, and it is ending, and i fear there will be no history classes full of children to talk about our plight. i usually have a quip or a witty thing to say or a catchy title to write about when i start writing these but i have nothing amusing to say, generally characteristic of the feeling ive been harbouring.
ive been sick these past few days, maybe its just that, i dont know. regardless, its scary that the truths of climate change, genocide, economic decline, postmodern self-consciousness, and AI, all exist despite my general contentment. its scary that there have been times where i havent felt this dread, like last week, for example. its scary that i can switch it all off and live normally. thats the thing about feeling numb about a world that deserves it - its an endless pit. once you feel disillusioned you cant undo it. thats not to say i havent tried, or that i havent lived extended periods of life unburdened by it, im just saying that this is one of those things you cant unsee. ive been seeing it since i was 9 and i learned what sexism was, and its been rotting away inside me like old fruit ever since.
im so good at blocking out how i feel about almost everything, whether it be personal or political, that its disconcerting when i feel anything other than ‘okay’ about something. its a nice reminder of my humanity i guess, i just wish i didnt need to exist in such extremes to remind myself of it. everything has its roots in something deeper, more complex, darker, and my hands are elbow-deep and bloody, in the soil all the time, tearing at everything. if navel-gazing is gardening then i live in a greenhouse in the city and my friends are all banging on the clear walls and the commuters look right through me because this is normal on the central line and i am one of many.
all of this to say i struggle to untangle my existential feelings caused by my coming-of-age from those caused by the climate i live in. if i was 19 in the 90s would it feel so heavy? i will never know.
i have been thinking about the 9 year old version of me, i have been trying to understand what happened to me between then and now. it feels unimportant what happened to me, and i feel i should be more concerned with happened to everyone between now and then. but do you see how overwhelming that is? how you cant consider yourself without considering everyone, and how that leaves no room to ever meet yourself really? and how that places no importance on understanding yourself? and how the urgency should be placed there by virtue of the fact that you’re the only person who can actually do that?
im not sure how to lead you out of that, except to say that i shall probably reread ‘the bell jar’ now, and that i am sorry to leave you in this clinically-lit corridor of an existential crisis, this liminal private hell of mine which has no true place or name.
PS- songs for moments like these include ‘that funny feeling’ (the phoebe bridgers cover), ‘fit n full’ by samia, ‘dylan thomas’ by better oblivion community centre, ‘fake plastic trees’ by radiohead, ‘class of 2013’ by mitski, ‘the ballad of me and my brain’ by the 1975 (also see: ‘i like america and america likes me’ or ‘jesus christ 2005 god bless america’)