Why does it seem like the goal of every day of my life is "Desperately fight depression and unhappiness"? Not "Find happiness", but "Avoid misery".
The way it's framed, it very much seems in my own mind that finding what I want in life is impossible, that the best I can do is to be content and not depressed.
I've actually been exercising and dieting hardcore for a while now, and I lost 40 pounds, and I'm getting slimmer and slightly better looking, but when people ask me "So what's your end goal?" I have to avoid getting angry because I DON'T FUCKING KNOW DON'T ASK ME! DON'T MAKE ME THINK ABOUT IT YOU SONUVABITCH! ...
...
I'd like some real impetus towards exercising, because "To get in shape" or "to stave off depression" are really nebulous and counterintuitive goals with no end point. Even "To become more attractive to the opposite sex" feels like a stupid goal to have, because deep down I know it's impossible. Not because I don't think anyone can care about me, but I doubt I can ever look at anyone as a potential partner, only as a potential threat to my contentedness. No matter how hard I try, I can never stop thinking of myself as that drop of oil; it's the analogy that has stuck to me for years now.
I really wish there was just a competition or rivalry I could brainlessly throw myself into, to exert myself and improve myself with a definite and achievable goal. It feels preposterously rare though, it feels like everyone around me strives towards mediocrity and being average, and so there's no celebration or culture of high effort achievement. Maybe it's just me.
I have to get this off my chest, because I've been very lazy the last couple days, just thinking about going to the gym but being easily dissuaded by short-term highs, and feeling very intense anxiety about the outside world for some reason.
I need to get to sleep now.