On purpose.

So not so long ago I had no car, no job and no social life, and I was depressed as fuck. I pretty much spent all of my time eating, sleeping, masturbating and watching TV. I was depressed as fuck with this routine. I put my head down and motivated myself, I cleaned out my apartment, I got a job, after a few months I got a car and I back in contact with my friends. At first it took large amounts of effort to act normal and act happy, to motivate myself and whatnot. I thought this would pass as success rolled in. Once I had the car to stop using spitfuck public tranceport, once I was earning money, once I’d been to a few get togethers, once I wasn’t living in a pig sty, it’d be easier. I’d be happier. But I’m still not. So because I respect your opinion more than Oprah’s or Dr. Phils’, I’m asking you: Is this life? Is this it? Everyone going around pretending to be happy and forcing themselves to deal with routine while secretly they wonder what the fuck they’re doing and why they should care? Or are other people genuinely excited about finding cheap gas or the time they save with 2 in 1 shampoo and all of that shit? Because I really just can’t seem to force myself to give a shit about any of it.

Getting off your ass is a good start, but nobody said jumping on the hamster wheel was supposed to make you happy. Success hasn’t rolled in, just basic fucking survival.

Congratulations on moving up a rung on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, but you’ve still got a long way to go before you find your happy place.

Now comes the tricky part. Stop searching for meaning and start looking for purpose. Life may be meaningless, but meaning is not the same thing as purpose.

It doesn’t matter how big or small — scale is unimportant, only intensity.

Happiness isn’t tied to your car, your job, or your social life. It’s tied to your purpose, and you don’t have one.

Go find a purpose.


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