Existentialism Before Life

A few existential thoughts. A crisis I've never dealt with, questions that have never risen before now, questions that have been deep below the surface, that have never needed to be asked before this point in my life. The simplest, most profound, the most unanswerable. Asked by many, answered in a variety of ways.

What is the meaning of life?

It seems laughable, that I must ask this. I 'know' the answer--Love. The glory of God. Two things which I believe in above all things and all principles.

But what is the meaning of MY life? What is MEANINGFUL in my life? What am I working for, what is my goal?

I should answer this with the aforementioned answers. A few months ago, I would have. But now, having fallen off the cusp of adulthood, having plunged into this abyss, it isn't as easy to answer. What were the points of every experience, every moment that shaped the growth of my soul? Was I brought to the recognition of beauty in this world, to be so strange and different, just to end up like all others? To be doomed to a zombie job, a life where I drive to work and by the time I drive home, want only to fall into bed? What am I working FOR? Towards what end? What drives me?

Nothing. My life stretches before me, like a vast, empty road. One blank, unending road. You may say I should consider it a blank canvas--create upon it and enjoy it's richness, it's fullness. I cannot. I cannot find the colors tonight, or in the morning when I prepare for a 1.5 hr drive, or when my head hurts from staring at the road and the constant stop/start of traffic. I cannot find the joy of life this week, or last week. There doesn't seem to be much hope for next week either.

Mayhap--I cannot deal with responsibility. Maybe it's all this growing up I was expected to do, and foolishly, I thought it would be better to retain my childlikeness. After all, aren't we supposed to stay young at heart? At heart, children do not go to bed at night, making themselves sick over where they're headed. So in that respect alone, I am adult, I suppose. It's the rest of the time, when I don't know how I'm going to pay my bills or where I'm going to live or how to pay rent...those are the moments I recognize my pitiful shortcomings.

Is this the morality part where my upbringing should suggest here's where I turn to God? That in my weakness and imperfection, He is made perfect and strong? That He is willing to take upon Him my cares? I know that I could, I know that I should. However...it seems like a petty thing to throw upon the shoulders of God--"Here, if you please. Could you please worry about something as trivial as how I don't want to live in a tiny apartment but rather a charming cottage? I promise, it's more important than the souls of man or your own glory. If you don't mind."