I seem to be stuck in an eternal existential crisis where I think nothing really matters. My life has no meaning or purpose. I have nothing to be really sad or really happy about. I believe that we are all virtually alone up until we die, which naturally we are all anxious about some day. Sure we may have family or friends or a companions but these are merely distractions. We're all alone with our thoughts. Ultimately our opinion is the only one that matters to ourselves and we are the only person who can make life decisions for ourselves. Therefore it is up to ourselves to either make life have a meaning or purpose and if you have not done so you have no one to blame but yourself. There are also factors beyond your control that can limit your choices like simply where you were born, genetics, social status, etc. I also think it's possible each choice or moment in time creates an infinite recurring reality, like a multiverse of infinite timelines where one's lives have gone. Right now my opinion of myself is pretty low. I think whatever choices I have made have all been wrong or possibly don't even matter because somehow all my timelines converge on despair and failure. This freedom to choose purpose is now like a personal prison and death is the only escape. I feel my life has served it's purpose and now has no meaning.