It’s only been two months into the new year, and I’ve experienced the height of all feelings – depression, happiness, motivation, inspiration, you name it. When friends have come to see me at work, they always say, “you look so much happier here!” And I guess theres some truth to that, but have I just become really good at pretending?

I’m not happy, nor am I satisfied with my life at the moment. In fact, I’m quite depressed, and I know this for multiple reasons: I wake up with zero motivation and no desire to start the day; I fake smile with all my might so that I am able to keep my job; I go about the motions just so the next day will come; I ride my bike furiously through the city, running red lights in hopes that I’ll be t-boned by a semi-truck…

I give up, now.

I had a conversation with my dad the other day where he told me I should really apply for a tourist license considering how much I love to travel; I rejected his idea and he blasted me with, “well what do you like? You don’t like anything!” And in the moment I brushed his comments off, but it’s true. What do I like? Everything that I have started, I’ve either quit or given up on – says a lot about my character right? This is probably why I travel so much. So every new city/country I visit, those people don’t know the “real” me. I’ve become so good at deceiving those around me, I’m starting to deceive myself.

fuck.

There’s no love here. No self-love, no love to emit, nothing. I’m as dried out as a dehydrated fruit. I thought if I got my fitness in check, those endorphins would run through me and I’ll not only be fit, but happier; that turned out false. I thought if I started serving, I’ll stop stressing about money; that’s nearly true. I try to meet new people, love interests, what have you, but those last only a day maybe two and the people I meet, lose interest in me; exactly how I am with life.

I quit this life.

OK, this isn’t some sort of suicidal note if that’s what’s going through your mind right now. This is only to say that I am not OK, or fine, or great. On my best days, I don’t shed any tears; on most days, I’m on the verge.

I know a lot of my failed attempts at relationships with friends/coworkers/romance is solely due to one constant factor – me. I am the problem. I can’t exactly be reborn again with a new personality, this is who I am, and if I’m destined to have no friends and be single til death, let it be.

This is the issue when you’re too self-aware. It inhibits a good life.