Existential Ennui

Every now and then I think about how

everything just happens, on and on, without

exception, about how we live most days without

ever asking that simple question – why? Most days, life is

enjoyable, and if we’re lucky, we get through it with

ease. But on some days, a sudden wave of

ennui hits you, and nothing seems important, and you question your very

existence. Why am I here? What am I doing?

Employment occupies the majority of my day; it is my means to

earn money. Money helps me live in comfort so I’m well-

equipped to keep working to earn more money and so on and on.

Everyone must think this is a perfectly reasonable cycle of life, or

else why would they do it? Then again, wasn’t it

Einstein who said that doing the same thing over and over and

expecting a different result is the very definition of madness?

Each day, the only sure progress we make is towards our deaths. The

end is the only thing that’s certain, yet we slog tirelessly and

enthusiastically towards it. Sigh. Oh, dear, there I go again.

Enough is enough, I must put a stop to this, or there will be no

escape from the wormhole of my brain. Look, I’ve written an

entire essay! I guess these things happen when life takes a break from being

exciting or eventful. This isn’t me, really – most days, I’m positively

exuberant about life, full of joie de vivre, looking forward

eagerly to the things that make life worth living,

even if that’s just a nice meal, a beloved song or a new

episode of television. So, really, please just

excuse all this pretentiousness,

empty your mind of worries, and go forth and have an

excellent day.

ETA:

(Enjoy the earworm.)

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