uniqueness and isolation of the individual experience in a hostile or indifferent universe

I'm basically just trying my best not to panic at this point. I've uncovered a reality about life (I mean, what else is new..) That's just it! I just stunned myself after writing the words out loud! The reality I discovered is that nothing IS new! I just woke up to the tune that someone else woke up to yesterday. And I just had the same thought that someone across the world had last week. And my stomach made the same noise that my great great great aunt's made last century! Nothing is different! What's the point anyways?

I apologize. Truth: I go through an existential crisis at least once a month. Today's trigger: The X-Files, season 6, episode: Field Trip. I tried to find something to capture the magic on youtube, but of course nothing could. Or tried. Although there was a Scully/Moulder tribute to Death Cab's "I Will Follow You Into the Dark," but if you don't watch the show, you probably wouldn't understand the genius there.


Anyways.

Scully struggles a bit with existentialism when she's high on 'shrooms (context, I realize, but really.) I identified strongly with it. I mean, what am I doing here? The same thing over and over again. And when the very very very annoying girls talk in my English class about eating peanut butter with everything. And the weird combinations they've heard or tried. Honey. Mac and Cheese. Root beer floats. Who the fuck cares? I am being critical, yes. But I feel I can because I have had the conversation before. And so have they. Like a million times. And yet they have it again. So maybe it isn't peanut butter. So maybe it isn't food. It's still all the fucking same.

Is this what depression is? I find nothing interesting. Nothing is new. I feel indifferent. Towards everything. Everyone. I have no desire to speak to anyone. To do anything. To study anything. To be anywhere. Because I've done everything. I don't want to pretend to be excited about a conversation I've had a million times before. BEcause they are all the same. The only thought I believe to be truly genuine to me is the this rambling of thoughts. Because now I can't possibly imagine how to continue to live. Because my entire life (now that I've came across this realization) will be fake. It has to be. Because I know in my heart that it's happened before. But if this thought is truly genuine, then it can't be genuine because someone must have had the thought before. And the human race still exists. So someone has not only realized this, but survived this. I can survive, right? I can forget that nothing in all the world matters.

I wish I could go back to yesterday when I thought about today and tomorrow like they hadn't already happened.

It was a simple time.