“I stick my fingers into existence – it smells of nothing. “ (Soren Kierkegaard)
Every so often I come across a line, or two that just mirror(s) my life so loyally, it’s scary. Existence smells of nothing lately. Because it’s void of everything, including smell, or taste. I try to find sense, and I try to find focus, and I feel like my senses are dormant, and my life is a dream, therefore I am asleep! I move, I talk, I make statements, I shop, I drive, I … talk again, but I feel no substance behind it. Just pure inertia, with no brain and emotion behind it. I am not sure if this is just a temporary hibernation stage, or just an “je m’en fiche”-ism that will just last for all my adult life (hope not). I feel no real connection to people, I sense my own fake-ness, and no purpose in everything. I feel like the future is only as long as 9.39 PM (it’s 9.38PM right now), and that’s all I have to plan for. All my values are scrambled, if any are left, and all hours of every day are superfluous! I have never felt as light as a feather. Some would call it pure freedom, and be glad they found it. I call it death!
I am praying every night for substance, and I am still waiting (funny, how I am praying “every night” and not “every day”: well, I simply pray at night – the factness of my actual prayer time seems to be one of the few relevant details here). At least, this awareness is hopeful! I KNOW, and I acknowledge this sudden change in my values, and person, and I feel not at ease. The knowing gives me hope. I am not lost yet. My existence might smell and taste like nothing, but it’s not a permanent predicament. There’s hope. And trust me: hope smells good!
I am craving for valuable people, and happenings, and life, in general. I am craving for “good smells” of LIFE with a capital “L”. I am craving good smells.
It’s not “life” that I am living lately. But simple “existence” and simple “surviving”. And it’s becoming pretty damn scary! This is the deadest, maybe, and the shallowest I have felt in a while, and it’s no fun! I can’t swim, but I miss the depths …