"It gapes and gapes"

Have either of you, my "followers"--

Alright. Hi guys. Yeah, it looks like I'm not just typing out into empty air anymore. That's okay, you're both cool. And hello to anyone else who reads this anonymously. You're probably cool too. You know, I honestly didn't think that I'd get viewership. Especially this early on. I'll try my best to keep typing like I'm doing it for therapy.
Anyways.

Have either of you ever had time slow down to a crawl? You know, where before something major happened or a project began, your days seemed to be going by far too quickly, you felt as though wasting time was as simple as wandering off into the internet, reading random stuff, even staring into space, when boom, something happens and suddenly it's all comparatively in slow motion. It's a little bit exhausting. I'm not entirely sure humans were designed to live moment after moment of their entire lives; it's a very smothering feeling.
One of the times this happened to me was during a winterim project, where the class produced a film. It only lasted two weeks, but looking back, I remember more from those two weeks than I remember from any other random four months of my life. This was an awesome experience. Even though time slowed to a crawl, I was filled with feelings of accomplishment as we progressed. And despite that I was only the male lead and the director of photography, I count that ten minute film among the greatest things that I was involved in producing.
It's been a similar experience with the musical I was just in. I loved every single long minute of it, and I wish it didn't have to end, but at the same time I'm glad that I get to move on to new things.
But really, to what? I'd written all of that a few weeks ago.
I feel like I'm standing at a major crossroads, looking down each way, but not moving. Just standing there, like I'm waiting for something to happen. I doubt that any path will take me somewhere I don't want to be, but how can I be sure there's a destination anyway? It's perfectly possible that someone paved a road for the sake of having a paved road. I don't want to work for the rest of my life. I don't want to work for any of my life, for that matter. And what about the paths that I can't see? The ones that have no signs and no trails, but still lead somewhere great?
Little of this seems to matter, though. I have nothing to work for. I have very little to offer the world; in fact I've discovered that we have so much content that perhaps spending the rest of my life consuming it would benefit me even more. Like I wrote before, none of my skills are practical in this day and age. I have a desire to learn an instrument, but those are expensive and I have no idea how serious I am about wanting to play. I would just love to work in a bookstore, but where have they gone, anyway?
And even littler of that seems to matter. This hole, the aforementioned hole in my existence, gapes on. It gapes and gapes, and I have utterly failed to ignore it. I have purposefully stumbled in it at least twice by now and made certain that it doesn't seal itself up. If anyone has seen me happy, it is because something enabled me to be distracted from it.
I'm starting to think that the only reason I reach out like I do is because I'm trying to prove to myself that I am indeed worth whatever wait or other such nonsense. I'm going to stop that immediately, and if love happens, great, but I'm done trying to force it.