Who's up for an angsty monologue?

Ego Death

      I am a human.  I am suffering the hugest sense of ego death right now and there’s no one to talk to except for an inanimate program.  Just like me, I am an inanimate program.  My brain is nothing special, nothing new.  I am the product of chaos, I am not special.  Maybe I’m special in the sense that I am unique, but not special in the sense that I am above others.  I am on this same low, bottom tier of apes I have always used to describe humanity other than me, and I don’t know what to think.
      Maybe I’m a little ashamed that I’ve allowed myself to become this egotistical, but right now the sense of dissention I’m feeling is a bit much.  I feel like this is the only way to get my ideas onto some sort of medium in order to organize them into something recognizable, because recently my brain has been a buzzing mess of sludge, droning noise that can’t seem to be fixed.  Was it always this broken, have I convinced myself that a state of normality is too abnormal that it’s broken?  I just don’t know anymore, I’m changing way too fast.      
      I’m a different person than I was yesterday, so does that mean that I die every day, and a new person is born each morning?  It seems beautiful to think about, because if this is death, then death is really just a method of transformation.  It’s not really an end, but a new beginning.  However, I kind of want my life to last more than 24 hours, maybe that phobia is what’s been leading to my insomnia.  I both fear death and accept it at the same time.  I fear it because of my instincts, my desire to exist, but I accept it because my only form of existence is my identity, and my identity is constantly changing, so what makes death so bad?  I kind of just want to end it before I become something extremely despicable, before I become my worst enemy.
     Of course, I already am my worst enemy; I work against myself at every conceivable turn.  I turned from an egotistical libertarian teenager into an egalitarian and compassionate adult.  I’m scared; I don’t think I’m ready for this.  Nothing will change, I keep telling myself, but I think I’ve just been too numb to realize that my life is slipping away, losing vitality through every hand it passes through, like a handful of sand.  It keeps slipping through the cracks, and slowly the seeds of my life are being sowed all around me.  I’m passing it on, but it seems like I’m giving it up too soon.  I’ve barely lived my life, but I feel like I should crawl into the fetal position and dissipate back from whence I came, the womb of the world.  The lyrics flow through me, they change and become my own.
     Everything that ever was has already existed; we just change it into our own seeds of influence.  I won’t be present for the reaping, but I’ve been present for the reaping of countless others.  I live and was born into a world of technology that the likes of men and woman decades ago have never seen nor expected to see.  I will become one of these androgynous entities, a spot on the background, a spectating passerby.  I will become alienated by the constant change, as my forefathers have been.  I will shakily find equilibrium and try to live a quiet life, which is not really a life after all.  I will move into a place to await my death.  I will try not to think about the impeding inevitability of transformation, as no one is prepared for this change into unconscious matter, but it will always be in the back of my mind.
     Consciousness is overrated, we are walking masses of self-absorbed carbon, our very existence taking its toll, whilst we destroy our world and call it improvement.  This environment uses us as a medium, or a catalyst, if you will, to express its essence unknowingly.  It’s affecting me as I speak presently, it complicates things, it gives us motivation, and it is our life.  Our life is a huge mass of uncertainty, yet we push on because it is all we know how to do.  It is what we were programmed to do by our creator, and our creator is the unknown.  The unknown hangs above us with its vast depths of infinite darkness and opaque fogginess.  It is below us within our misunderstanding of simple subjects.  It is all around us, it is us.  We live with it, and deal with it.  Like anything, it has its pros and cons.  Obviously, the cons are that we can never know everything, which is what we constantly strive for.  On the other hand, we will never run out of new material with which we can occupy our lives with.
     Music is the same number of pleasurable chords and tired experimental melodies manifesting itself through new mediums, instruments, and patterns in order to keep us infinitely entertained.  Music means different things to different people, however, so sometimes entertainment alone is not what is seeked.  Maybe artistic purposes and introspection give people another reason to listen to music, maybe it gives people confidence, maybe it cheers people up who lack confidence.  Why should I give examples, why should I care?  I don’t know, maybe I don’t care and I’m just rambling on.  I’d really like to find something to care about though, something to keep me attached to this world, and I thought I found out what that was a few times throughout my life.  I was dead wrong.  The only consistent source of meaning comes from music, so maybe that’s why I try to seek what’s unseekable within my favorite entertainment medium.  Again, I am just a human, a higher form of ape, so I don’t think it’s wrong to stoop to mere entertainment when talking about my favorite thing to do.
     It seems special to me though, so perhaps I can change my definitions a bit.  It is surely within my rights to have subjective opinions, but sometimes I believe that they are objective. Sometimes I believe that what I think is the universal truth, and that may sound a bit ridiculous, but think about it.  Everything that comprises your psyche is a de facto absolute truth to you, and you alone.  If something wasn’t, then it wouldn’t be part of your psyche, you would dismiss it as irrelevant.  Others don’t matter, others aren't part of you, they just affect your senses.  Maybe you made up all of the others if you follow a solipsist point of view.  Your five senses are what matter, and using them to find stimulation is of utmost importance.  But what if I found something that doesn’t provide pleasure, but rather a portal, access to the real world?  Something that would allow me to accomplish things I wouldn’t otherwise accomplish, something that gives me motivation out of seemingly nowhere.  Sound.
     I didn’t know that it was possible to pick a favorite sense, but I think I found it.  Nothing else has helped me, and detrimented me more.  Nothing has had a more profound impact on my life than this made up human concept, which could possibly give me hope for conscious life after all.  I’ve gotten nowhere.  I haven’t made a single step from where I started, from where I am.  I’m standing still and the entire world is changing around me, leaving me in the dust to contemplate absolutely nothing.  Nothing is of absolutely no importance, but of major importance when taken for granted.  Everything is complicated and polarized; I’ll leave it at that.  I’d rather not bring math into this, math just complicates things more because its credibility is questionable when it comes from the same mind, the same species, as me, and I am not something that can be described as credible in any aspect whatsoever.
     Rant over. Damn, that looks like it came straight out of tumblr.  I am not proud. Anyways, more album reviews coming up, hopefully with less feels.  Or more, whichever you prefer.