So I'm depressed. Shall I jump through your hoop?
I've been depressed pretty much all my life (born in a body that deserves to be in a junkyard, grew up with an abusive father... et cetera)--that is, all fifteen years of it--and I was diagnosed at thirteen. Well... we've been working on medication and my life in general, but...
What am I supposed to do?
I wake up. I eat breakfast. I play video games until sunset. I watch late-night television. I go to sleep. Lather, rinse, repeat.
I'm schooled online, but I'm very debilitated right now and am essentially out of school. People tell me to go out and do something--why? Go out and do what? "Something fun," they say. I tell them I'd pay them sixty dollars to think of "something fun."
I don't know what the point of life is. We weren't put on this planet to wake up, eat, sleep, poop, and play video games. For two years I've been trying to find something better. I've failed.
I'm just wondering if anything's next.
Sure, I'll take your meds and go to your therapy sessions and do a little homework and jump through your flaming hoop.
But it won't make me happy.
Don't worry... I'm in no danger of harming myself, as little a difference as it ought to make (what's a broken leg going to do? Make it harder to get to the bathroom?). I'm just having a little trouble finding my motivation. What's your take on what we're supposed to do in life? What's so unique about people that they seem to think you can find all these fun things to do and reasons to get up in the morning? I'm really curious. What's the typical lifestyle of a depressed person supposed to be like, anyway?