I've lived a good life up until now, albeit completely riddled with anxiety and bouts of depression. I've distracted myself for 28 years now.

I've been practically unemployed for going on a year now. I'm employable, but I quit my job during a manic episode, and haven't been able to give a shit since the depression hit. I don't fucking want to be a software engineer. I never wanted to. I am a lazy fuck who will never learn that work is work, and all my dreams won't magically appear by me burning through my savings watching YouTube videos for 10 hours a day. I'm going to eventually go back to software engineering when I run out of money and stay there for the next 50+ years given good health. I'm going to make music and play live when asked be playing what-could-have-been in my mind as I play my hundredth local show to the same audience. all these fake ass feelings that I'd do a career change, work some low wage job, do volunteering. I don't give a fuck about any of that and I tricked myself into wasting a year until I go back to software engineering with my tail in between my sorry ass legs. I'm just a lazy piece of shit who out of sheer luck has the right skillset to be a lazy entitled fuck that can print money to support wasted tremendous potential and achieve nothing of substance.

I'm only 28 for fucks sake and I've already given up on everything. I travelled while depressed and it was shitty. I don't care that it looks like I'm living the dream - going to the same cafe every day with nothing to do? Eating the same food I've eaten for the last 100 days? Then going home to lay in bed and watch YouTube from 3PM until 2AM? What the fuck happened to life being precious? Why am I so god damn lucky to have finally achieved some strange dream of having absolutely no responsibility? It's empty. If I work, I'm trapped in a job. If I don't, I'm trapped in a void. There's no winning.

Why don't I want to do things I like to do? That shit doesn't make any fucking sense. Like, have I really built up such a complex and unsolvable mental dilemma in my mind that I, on some deep subconscious level, really think I'm doing right by myself by doing absolutely nothing every day for a year? What the fuck? I'm an arrogant asshole who won't listen to anyone but the self-destructive and know-it-all person in my mind that won't swallow his pride and actually make a change in my life and try something that requires me to lift even a finger without getting paid \_at least\_ $150 an hour, which of course I will do begrudgingly when I'm almost out of money like the entitled fuckface that I am. 

The worst part is, I know that if I could do this for the rest of my life, I would probably have no problem being miserable, too lazy, too irresponsible, too childish to do anything even mildly difficult to pick myself up. I am wasted potential. I love my friends though. And at least my future will consist of at least a few good times. Wishing you all well and hope you can be self-compassionate unlike myself right now.