I’ve been drifting for so long now. Half my life. I wish I had some sense of clarity or consistency. Any kind of purpose to keep me going. Like, what the fuck am I doing here? What am I living for? I’m not trying to find a relationship. I’m not that interested in making friends. I don’t really enjoy other people’s company . To the extent that I have career goals, I don’t really care whether or not I get there. I don’t get much pleasure from any of my hobbies or interests. I have no drive.
The only reasons not to kill myself are not wanting to hurt my family, and fear of something worse beyond death. That’s usually enough to hold me back, but not enough to push me to really live. Why get up in the morning? Why not rot away in bed? Why do anything that’s not absolutely necessary to avoid death?
And there are good rational reasons to make an effort. But none that connect emotionally.