Existential anxiety is the constitutive condition of a creature that has certain conditions attached to its existence. In the case of human beings, we are creatures who know that time is running out. We want to know what lies in the future but we cannot, nor can we hope to change the future. And this makes us very anxious. All of us suffer from basic existential anxiety. But since each of us is unique, with particular life histories and material conditions, the anxiety that we suffer from is also distinctive and unique.

-Samir Chopra

Also we may conflate existential anxiety with a narrative based on the past.

Some trees in the graveyard that were marked for death with the green circle fell in the storm. I woke up thinking about anxiety and an interview, On Anxiety, appeared in The Philosopher.

We can begin by distinguishing anxiety from fear. Fear is said to have a concrete object, while anxiety does not. Anxiety is a sort of formless, anticipatory fear. There are several kinds of anxiety. The first kind, existential anxiety, arises from our existential conditions. The second is a basement-dwelling, ever-present anxiety, which is the fear of death. And the third kind, found in Freudian psychoanalysis, is the fear of the loss of love.

-Samir Chopra

We may be a little anxious about a tree falling on the gravestone we placed, will place. But the tree probably just feels it's time.

 i hope we will watch sentimental value today. it's raining. i'm glad the power is back on and we went to the graveyard yesterday. when i say i want to quell my anxiety i mean in the sense of calm and quiet, to pacify, to make peace with it.

 i need to quell my anxiety. i've always been anxious as long as i can remember. i seem to chart the beginning to kindergarten when i was four, but it must have begun before, when i was born? or before? i may have been born with it. i used to quell it by reading into the night under covers with a flashlight so i wouldn't wake my brother in the twin bed next to me. but reading wasn't enough to quell my anxiety, it only works in books and the penumbra of books. alcoholic spirits didn't work, they only made my anxiety muted and abyssal, anxiously numb.

 Emily Brontë had nervous depression she called hypochondria or melancholy. She called her self a stalking ghost.

 We, we. Locked. It's such a relief to have our toilet again. I had to go twice down 15 flights to poop in a hollow mulberry stump in the woods.