No, really. Why do we, you, I, stick around? Love? Sex? Hugsies from Mommy? Money? Books? LSD? Babies? Duty?

I don't want to be talked out of committing suicide, mostly because I'm not committing suicide. But I am alive today mostly because of some vague principle that dying is probably worse than all this, my parents and brother would be sad, and I'm in therapy so that I don't commit suicide. So far as results go, it's working.

But over the last few months, I gotta tell you. I don't see the point. It's just going to be more of this... this struggle. Day after day. Why am I doing this? Obviously I'm missing something. Something that makes life "worth living" in a concrete sense, not just in this vague amorphous way.

What am I missing? I've been told to "cheer up" and the only reason I'm not happy is that I'm "not trying". It's like I "want to be miserable". And I look at my little white pills that help me get out of bed in the morning, at my very nice therapist who tells me not to be so angry at myself for not being happy or accomplished or okay... I don't know how to do this "trying" or "doing" or "cheerying".

So. If you feel up to it, if you want to, if you feel like it. Share your joy with me, for a bit, please?