Post something, any media form, to sum up about how you feel about your life at this point in time.
"I’m intuitively certain that for people like me no material circumstance can be propitious, no situation have a favorable outcome. If I already had good reasons for withdrawing from life, this is yet another one. Those courses of events that make success inevitable in an ordinary man have an unexpected, adverse effect in my case.
This observation sometimes causes me a painful impression of divine hostility. It seems that only by some conscious manipulation of events, to make them work against me, could the series of disasters that define my life have happened.
The result of all this is that I never make much of an effort. Let luck come my way, if it will. I know all too well that my greatest effort won’t achieve what it would in other people. That’s why I give myself up to luck, without expecting anything from it. What should I expect?
My stoicism is an organic necessity; I need to shield myself against life. Since stoicism is after all just a stringent form of Epicureanism, I try to get some amusement out of my misfortune. I don’t know to what extent I achieve this. I don’t know to what extent I achieve anything. I don’t know to what extent anything can be achieved…
Where another man would succeed not so much by his effort as by a circumstantial inevitability, I wouldn't and couldn't succeed, whether by that inevitability or by that effort.
I seem to have been born, spiritually speaking, on a short winter day. Night fell early on my being. The only way I can live my life is in frustration and desolation.
None of this is truly stoical. It’s only in words that my suffering is at all noble. I complain like a sick maid. I fret like a housewife. My life is totally futile and totally sad." - The Book of Disquiet, Fernando Pessoa