Existential sighs

I wonder; am I an existential philosopher because of what I’ve experienced through my existential depression over the span of 11 years
OR

Am I existentially depressed because I was born with an insatiable hunger for discovering WHY. So I open pandora boxes after pandora boxes of existential questions.

Do I thrive on the thrill of playing a detective of life’s mysteries,  like daredevils thrive on the adrenaline rush of extreme sports?

I’ve been asking myself existential questions since I was FOUR. My daycare centre would take my parents aside when they come to pick me up and share their concerns over my somberness and how little I was interested in playing with the other kids.

The more my parents and others would try to make me open up and be like a normal kid, the more reserved I’d become. I was selectively mute until I was 12/13. Incredibly withdrawn and shy. Read a lot. The more I’d be urged to stop being melodramatic or ask certain questions, the stronger my desire grew.

So I learnt to walk my own path, not let others know what I mull over and just soldier through life.  The most difficult part of my life was people. Still is. I’m quite naive, holding others to the same moral standards that I do to me. When someone does something bad or evil, I try to look for a why. But often the why isn’t rooted in logic. It baffles me, ‘ but how is it possible that people could do this?’. It’s only recently that I stopped giving people a lifetime warranty of the benefit of the doubt 😒. When I cut someone off, I have to call up a friend to listen to my mental dissections of my reasons for taking such a measure and if I was morally wrong for doing that, if I might have hidden agendas or if I might be projecting my insecurities on the other person and I’m just in denial about it. :oops::oops::oops::oops::oops:  
Questions would consume me for years. Literally years.

In my mind, I have question threads. I’m not kidding. So say I start out with a why. And I discover the why,  which would give me a bigger picture of the concept but then I’d see another puzzle and ask why? And it can go on for YEARS.  Often, I eventually reach the end of a thread and file it away in my mind. It gets cooperated into my being as a truth.
But there are active threads that my mind is busy scanning the universe for answers. And I have more than one thread active.

It’s like I feel and live with the zeal and energy of 50 other people.

What was my point again?  *crickets* sigh. A Day in the Life of a (description pending)

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