27.09.2026 - all the tired horses
Sometimes it seems to be a Bob Dylan sort of day. We ask ourselves if we are only a little low or if it is already something else. We go through the motions and think, just showing up ought to be enough. 

Instead of being aware of an experience, we expect the experiences to make us aware. And maybe that is also the fundamental flaw at the heart of creation. 
The wild expectation that happiness, satisfaction and fulfilment will emerge on their own solely by merit of things existing. Then again, maybe that's the truth, more or less.

If we are the universe perceiving itself, are we perhaps haunted by an existential dysthymia? An ill-humour, which leaves us low on energy, low in self-esteem, with poor concentration, sad and hopeless?

Is that why we always need to make our own fate? Is that why it feels so hard?