I’ll give my 2 cents.
Personally, I don’t think you can be happy alone. You can be fine, not happy.
But think about it: if you had all the people you want right next to you, would you really be able to experience happiness with PFS? In my case, I’m not sure.
This whole PFS story made me grow. A lot. In a paradoxical, cinical way, it made me realize what’s importantant in life.
This scares me a lot. Because, up until 18 months ago or something, life for me was just about quantity. Having been suffering hell on Earth in the past decade or so, but being terribly afraid of death, I used to believe “as long as I’m alive, I’m fine”.
Now I’m sure about that anymore.
As of today, the chances of me finding a parter for life are … let’s say low. Just to be nice.
But it’s not just about that.
PFS turned me into a pain in the ass. I’m painfull to be around.
I used to be so funny people would invite me out for dinner and just wanted me to talk and make them laugh. I used to write jokes for comedians. I’ve been heavily depressed for the past 7-8 years. Despite this, people wanted to be around me. I was funny, I was brilliant, I was optimistic.
Sadly as it may sound, you have to give people a reason to be around you.
I can’t produce humorism anymore. I’m the dumbest idiot you’ll come across. I used to have a gifted IQ. Now, I struggle following conversation. Creating concept in my mind. Forming ideas. I was so creative it was outerwordly. I was emotional, I could connect with people in no time. Friends would reach out to me and ask what I though about current affairs and stuff.
I have nothing to give to people nowadays.
I’m in the process of losing my friends. The best friends in the world. They did everything for me. Everything. They stayed with me when nobody else would.
Future for me is a weird concept. If the quality of my life doesn’t get better, I’m done in 1 year, 2 years max. At this point in time, I have some cards to play, which give me … hope? I guess so.
Deep inside me I hope one day I’ll turn my situation around. But hope isn’t enough anymore.
The only things that motivates me, is the possibility of finding my real self again.
My dearest friends recently told me “we don’t even know you are anymore, but you’re not [my name]. You are a totally different person”.
And I am.
I’m trying to toughen up.
In the next months, I’ll try to work more, move out, and I’ll “play my cards”. If I can get my life to a point where is worth living I’ll stick around. But I won’t live alone. I wasn’t born to be alone. So in my case, it’s either people around or … else.
Sorry for the confused message. I’m fucking suffering here and my mind is so foggy I can’t even process my thoughts.
I guess the right answer is: find a purpose for life, something to serve, something greater than yourself. But at the end of the day I still have to come back home. And I don’t that home to be empty.