Oh. I got it. I got it. This is just me being afriad of death again. Why I keep dancing this dance...I'm afriad I'm getting older and yet not doing anything meaningful. I'm afraid I'll disappear. Well, I will disappear. I don't have kids, don't have anyone I've inspired, don't have anything to leave behind. It's a strange and horrifying place to feel yourself to be--the ceasing of being. I know it happens to all of us, but it keeps me awake at night just thinking about the finality, the end. It's as bad and spirals as quickly out of purpose as when I try to wrap my head around how the Universe could possibly have come into being. On the one end I'm mystified and crazified by the begining of being, and on the other I'm terrified and panicked by the end of being. And in between there's life that I feel I keep fumbling.
I feel sad. I don't think I'm depressed because I'm productive. But I'm definately sad. Melancholy. I feel as though something's going to happen, but I'm not sure what. Hope this is just funky brain chemistry asserting itself for a couple of days and will then clear out.