Ethical Existentialism
lately i’ve been waking up with this hollow feeling in my chest, like a weight that’s always there, pressing down, refusing to let go, and it’s not just the news or the endless scroll of headlines about gaza, though that’s part of it, of course it is, but it’s more than that—it’s the constant push and pull inside me, this deep and confusing conflict that i can’t seem to shake, like i’m being torn between two versions of myself that should be able to coexist but somehow can’t, not right now, not with everything that’s happening, and i keep thinking about what it means to be jewish, really jewish, not just in name or tradition or ritual, but in spirit, in action, in the way my grandparents lived it, with this fierce sense of justice and empathy and resistance against oppression, and yet here i am, feeling paralyzed, afraid to speak too loudly or too clearly, especially on social media where every post feels like walking a tightrope between integrity and alienation, between truth and tribe, and maybe that’s cowardice, maybe it is, but what i know is that i’m tired of the half-measures, the careful curation of outrage, the performative gestures that don’t lead anywhere real.