Existential angst

Sipping my java black. Sweaty. Thunder outside The balcony. Not much rain. Thinking about life, existence, being in and of itself. Pondering responsibility. Jean Paul, Jean Paul, what are we to do? Where do I turn for advice on how to tackle life's ups and downs?
Well, for practical reasons the question goes unanswered. On the other hand it would pretty much have been the same back then when the man was still around. That is one of the major tenets of existentialist reasoning. One has to decide for oneself. Not wait for the right answers to be delivered by some higher power, because thre is no such power. Just you, and I, and the other.
So I look at my life. Have I done the things I wanted to do? Have I been true to my philosophy? Well, I think so. I have done what I wanted to, and considered the pros and cons in doing so. Have I been morally just? According to whose standards? There is no a priori morals, except for those you decide for yourself, and in doing so; for the rest of the world. I believe I can stand up for my acts. What about the refugee crisis? Is it right to open our borders, remembering every penny we give the refugees has to be cut from some other post. Healthcare, the elderly, education, you name it. So is it right to say to the poor in our country that we must take your food money, and give it to this other person who have not paid anything into the system at all, and most likely never will? It is not a pleasant question, but one craving an answer. These are hideous times, and not least for an existentialist. The agony of consideration may seem a rich man/woman problem, but a problem it is. 

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