It’s funny how scared I am of the feeling that nothing really matters. I just have to be invested in something, committed in my mind or…what? Life will still go on. I’ll keep on eating, sleeping, and repeating until my circumstances fall apart. But something about that kind of existence just seems utterly terrifying.
I suppose it’s a survival instinct. I have to have motivation to push me to do things that will aid survival long term. I have to believe that it matters.
But sometimes it’s just gone. And all that’s left is the fear. Nothing matters, and yet somehow it matters that nothing matters.