I first experienced this after reading On the Beach[0]. I realized that just like everyone in that book (no spoiler here), I'm going to die - I just don't know when. I was twelve, and I never talked about this with anyone, I just fucking carried it for at least two of years of often sleepless nights, until I'd become so inured to the existential dread that it no longer really hurt me.
The conclusion I came to is that I didn't exist before I was born, and it wasn't a problem. I won't exist after I die, and it won't be a problem then either. While its completely logical, it isn't enough on its own, but maybe its one piece of the puzzle that will help you.
The conclusion I came to is that I didn't exist before I was born, and it wasn't a problem. I won't exist after I die, and it won't be a problem then either. While its completely logical, it isn't enough on its own, but maybe its one piece of the puzzle that will help you.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/On_the_Beach_(novel)