Ginger Mary --
There is a hypnotic indulgence to your lament of purposelesness, I feel myself drawn in and I recognize the hidden revelry in exposing the farce for what it is.
I sometimes feel such an indulgence at night. I close my eyes and feel entirely alone, unwanted, unloved, and a suicidal image occurs without me wanting it. I can indulge it, just as a game, or I can shove it away shocked.
Self pity has its perks. When we are advised to talk positively towards ourselves, to praise ourselves, encourage ourselves, cheer ourselves on, build on our goals, this sort of thing, there seems, in the throes of our depression, to be a falsity in this that actual feels worse than just admitting I don't want to do it, I can't do it anyway, and further, if I do accomplish a few things, I can't sustain it, I never have, I've tried, I can't.

Then there is the self discipline to force yourself to be positive even when it doesn't feel positive, the way I force myself to eat though I have no appetite or force myself to do my work though my heart isn't in it. There is value to this discipline, but it is an entirely different expereince than when I am inspired, and enjoy eating, invent meals, gain some weight and celebrate about it, enjoy my work and dazzle my boss, flirt with every woman who crosses my path and feel myself attractive and desired. Certainly when I am WITH, there is no need for discipline. It all comes naturally and with little effort. Yet lacking that inpsiration, that spirit, when it hurts and I force myself to go through the motions, even though I am working much harder, I can take little pride in the results.

This, I think, is simply the facts of the situation. We can make the most of it without expecting it to be the best thing imaginable. What is the best we can make of it? That is enough.