The Facade of an Existential Crisis?

“Among other things, you'll find that you're not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behaviour. You're by no means alone on that score, you'll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You'll learn from them—if you want to. Just as some day, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It's a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn't education. It's history. It's poetry." J.D. Salinger

I titled this post with a question mark because the entire basis of my personal existential crisis is shaky. At this point in life I'm not really sure if there is such a thing as an existential crisis.

Sometimes I think that growing up in love with an author, and subsequently his work, may have hindered me from experiencing life genuinely. I have been in love with Salinger for most of my life. Sometimes I wonder that if by living in The City, and reading his work over and over again, I'm not somehow forced into a false sense of existentialism and the constant questioning of "what is life?". Were I not saturated in Seymour Glass' life and family, and had I not felt myself going through a nervous breakdown like Holden, would I still step back from my life and question the "why" of the Universe? I suppose it will have to be one of those chicken and egg dilemmas.

As for now, I will sit here looking out on The City, on 23rd Street and Lexington, 13 floors above the rainy streets, and think about Salinger and The City and Life. And I'll wait for spring to come and bring a little color to my gray scale world.