existential angst

I think about the nature of suffering a lot, because I am suffering a lot. I can't seem to explain it or alleviate it, so I keep thinking, sometimes out loud. I do know all too well how to alleviate it in the short term, but I also know how that ends. The problem is much bigger than how I feel right now.

I am afraid of dying, but I'm also afraid of dying without ever having had the chance to live. The state I've spent most of my life in does not feel like living. Maybe this has more to do with dopamine and depression than anything else, but it can also look a lot like an indictment of how everyone else lives. I don't think much about that. If someone is happy playing video games their entire lives, or watching tv, drinking beer, collecting stamps, whatever, I have no problem with that. It's good that they seem happy, right? 

For me though, it feels like passing the time, distracted from pain and failing mental health. Now and then I look up, and hours, days, weeks have gone by, unlived. Months, even years. I just keep getting older. So what do I do instead? Pass the time in less engaging ways, bored, constantly thinking about how I'm not doing anything, and my life is getting away from me. Just the same, only more aware of every excruciating moment of it.

Not exactly an improvement, I know. So, for one thing, I'm sure as hell not judging anyone for how they spend their time. I've wasted my entire life one way or another. All this going on about it is me trying to figure out how to stop doing that. I'm trying to figure out what it means to stop doing that. 

The problem with relaxing, letting go, is that it means letting inertia take over, and in many situations, that is a horrible idea.