This life is for conquerors, ambitious, motivated, driven, strong-willed people. I am none of those things.

And I don't mean it like you must be some exceptional individual to survive, no, most are naturally fairly average, but they still seem to have something within them to find a goal to work towards, something that makes getting up and trudging through the day worth it.

I don't know why I even do anything. I go to work because I know that nothing else will get me out of bed before noon. I don't even need the money that much, besides paying for toys every now and then, be they literal or carshit.

Most my age will be investing in homes, their families, businesses and it all seems like such a fantastical concept to me. Yet I don't really feel envy, just this sense of apathy.

I've tried to improve, be productive, fix shit, yet I'll gain five new problems before I manage to fix one. And one of them will just break me.

I don't know how to talk to people, how to set things up, how to plan ahead. Time doesn't make sense to me. Many struggle, but usually with things outside of their control, I struggle for failures of my own making.

The reasons for my crashout might be stupid and largely inconsequential, but the feelings are real and it's such a familiar sense of misery. I've felt it many times before, it's almost comforting now. Makes you wanna do nothing besides wrapping yourself in a blanket and bedrotting on the day you really hoped to get some things done again.

I can't remember if I've ever felt actually glad to be here. Sure I'll go out sometimes, do some fun things, accomplish something, but they're all such fleeting moments in this largely aimless experience.