Do people actually enjoy life? I’ve known, superficially, people that appear happy, but I have a suspicion it’s all an elaborate act. Life’s mundane, and boring. It’s all the fucking same. Go anywhere on the planet, the people are all the same, doing all the same things, in slight variations.
Nature’s an unimaginative joke. Clones of clones with variations. Much wow. Much spiraturality. Those giant rocks changed my life. That whale spoke to me personally. That tree healed me. Are people fucking serious? Are people so cognitively inept that being reminded that there’s things outside themselves, alive or not, is a life affirming act?
I just want to disappear. The older I get the more dissapointed I become. There’s nothing here that gives any sense of joy. Medication doesn’t work. Therapies don’t work. Self-aware life is hell. If anyone’s happy or content their self-awareness must be sufficiently limited. Blah, blah, blah. Just rambling. I hate this. People who have children are the worst.
How old are you?
I could have written this. I’m 40. I’ve never enjoyed my life. I see it as something to be endured. Even though I “should” be happy.
I guess some people are just born broken.
I’m in my early 30s, and likewise, never liked life. I’ve listened to people and they always say “it gets better”. I doubt it, but even if it did, when? What even gets ‘better’? How? When you’ve been crippled by age does the universe pull back the curtains to reveal meaning, or floods your body with feel-good chemicals?
Felt very similar all my life, turned out I was far more neurodivergent than I had assumed. Doesn’t make things any easier, but made me realize living in a world built for neurotypical folks is a special kind of hell. At least I’ve got cannabis and cool video games to hyperfixate on, that shit keeps me going.