It has been suggested to me that I pursue passions/hobbies that used to make me happy when I was a kid, as a way of curbing my depression and bringing more joy into my life.

Trouble is… I just don’t remember thinking anything was especially joyful. I can’t think of a thing that I did as a kid or early teen that I can reliably say made me happy. 

Video games maybe? I drew a little as a kid. I’ve always liked music, but I listen to music all the time.

Why doesn’t anything make me happy? Sometimes I’ll just sit, I’ll look at the wall, the ceiling, the trees. My eyes will unfocus, I’ll disassociate. My chest will feel empty, like there’s a hole there.

Occasionally my mind locks onto a memory, I don’t know what it is, and I can’t really describe it. It’s like a substance, a murky, dark, semi-solid material. It’s like the feeling and the memory it’s associated with are just out of reach.

I can’t sleep through the night, but I’m too exhausted to get out of bed in the morning.

Am I just condemned to feel like this? Is this God’s plan for me? Do I exist just to suffer?

What used to make me happy?