I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to create existential crisis for myself when I respond to a thought questions why I should or shouldn't be doing things in my life.
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to give purpose and meaning to my life through my thoughts and reactions.
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to allow myself to be influenced through my experience of thoughts and reactions instead of acting on principle where I can challenge my beliefs and behaviors.
This existential crisis is pre-ordained, the thought and the reaction and then the choice to give purpose and meaning to it, is just systematic within me, so can't be worked with or questioned it's just an automated script.
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to be intimidated by the existential experience within me.
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to allow myself to be intimidated so I can be justified in standing down from directing myself and my life and just letting thoughts and emotions run the show.
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to forget about my predisposition within myself when I experience existential experiences, where I question everything and am not sure about anything, as I realize the underlying issue which I see within myself as one and equal to the world around me, can only be snuffed by great experiences for so long, and great questions of who I am and what I'm doing on earth can only hold interest for so long.
Sometimes the things I experience within my mind, within how I feel become existential, larger than life.
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to allow how I feel to become any more than just a feeling that can be traced back and deconstructed.
When I'm not feeling well, there's a reason, it's not the end of the world, I'm just giving into astonishment, not looking at how I'm feeling came to be, if I look at memories and the words I'm living and my behavior, suddenly things start to click.
Existential; of or relating to existence.
My existence is more than a feeling, more than a thought or experience, more than the patterns I've constructed to live by based on those thoughts and emotions.
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to make things out to be more than what they are pertaining to my existence, patterns and systems needing to be reformed.
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to perceive the patterns and systems I've given control of my life over to as being impassible walls, as I realize I'm taking the steps to take down these walls, sometimes I'll have to work around them, but they aren't anything more than lines in the sand in reality.
It comes down to a lot of feelings and questions and experiences.
When will I change?
When I change myself, when I make the time and put in the effort.
Existential, pertaining to my existence, how long will I exist this way? Feeling tired, and weak, until I address and change the way I live those words.
I'll change the patterns I'm living and creating when I sit down and investigate them and apply myself.
I think part of it is I'm realizing how I can't do anything in breathing in directing myself to actually change for real.
It all seems to come down to self forgiveness and commitment statements, the rest is just forming healthy patterns and living and remaining stable within breathe.
I think that's the root of my existential crisis, I thought I had power outside of self forgiveness and commitment statements, power to change myself, and I just don't, it's all in the words and the living of the words, living integrity and principle and honor, living the words through writing and speaking out my old systems.
So the reality setting in of how limited I am until I change for real, is what is causing me an existential crisis, but now I see with real eyes, so for now, when and as I see myself creating great tales in my mind, and great experiences of how horrible or wonderful my existence is as existential feelings and emotions and thoughts, I stop, I breathe, I realize the real existence is still here I've just wondered off again because that's my trick, my behavior, thusly, I commit myself to not blow things out of proportion, to not make mountains out of molehills because I see that to sit down and address in self honesty will show me what's really happening and in the mean time I'm just biding for time until reality sets in one way or another, in this case through self movement in writing, otherwise I could keep dragging things out in my mind to no avail for years and I've done before.
It's infuriating, I'm just going to be faced with my own madness over and over until I sit down and write it out, it's like, how is this for real?
There's a question, not brought through existential feelings and emotions and thoughts, just me facing myself and bringing up the question, how can this be for real?
How can there be nothing else?
How can it be that everything else I do is just biding the time I'll have to deal with my mind until I write things out?
It's not fair, it's not fair, but that's the way it is.
That's my existential crisis, this isn't 'fair', this is all a matter of living words, one hour a day of writing or more, the rest is in the wind, mg inner wind as what I call one of the particular patterns I've formed to help me cope with my existence.
Facing what moves within me to the degree I have been trying to lead me to existential experience, because my inner wind, my thoughts, my paranoia, my emotions have become what I'm existing as, and when it hits me that I'm powerless outside of the living breathing change through speaking self forgiveness and commitment statements, it challenges every thread and wire and coding within my programming, even the light at the end of the tunnel, that things will get better if I keep going day by day, even that is challenged by the mass unrelenting amount of work that is required even beyond the pace I've deemed reasonable, even how much work and writing I've deemed reasonable comes into question when faced with my own death as how I've been living, facing the death of how I've been living in every way.
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