I think I spent most of my life thinking I had a specific lack, i.e. that I was less "real" than the people around me. Only in the last few years did I realize that our general conditions produce what feels like a personal failing... we are awash in information but not meaning; the conditions of our lives feel disconnected from a shared history or struggle; the tools or vocabulary by which we can bring "ourselves" into being keeps getting thinner and more trivial. If you feel like you're waiting for yourself to arrive, waiting to be alive to yourself in a way that makes you aware that you are free, I recommend Kierkegaard. He's lowkey a funny troll, also.
