FYI I mention images of suicide, but this post isn't about suicide particularly. 

Just as the title would indicate, life is just kind of incredibly boring.  I've been through a shit ton of bad interpersonal relationships.  I've already spewed some history of mine on this sub so I won't bore you with the history lesson again.  

But, generally, now I've developed into a dopamine seeking lunatic at times.  My compulsive, repetitive thoughts race, but then other times there's just silence.  Just this unexplainable silent nothingness.  It's like my soul went on a vacation and left behind sarcasm and/or existential nihilism.  Impulsive thoughts of suicide enter my mind on occasion, but they're unpleasant.  They mostly just include vivid images of my brains blown out the back or side of my skull.  I don't generally want to die, but I can't seem to live either.  I mask my emptiness with sarcasm, charisma, and wit.  Charisma is maybe not the right word for it, but I can't think of a better one right now.  My therapist wants me to get a psychological evaluation so I guess I should.  My status at work has improved, and I own my own home, a nice vehicle, etc.  I make good money.  I am generally just doing well in life, but the emptiness still just plagues me.  I have become more social, but it has only exposed my subconscious and, I guess, even my conscious self to the emptiness even more.  I interact with people and generally feel pretty good around them, but then when I'm no longer around them I don't miss them.  I don't really miss any particular people anymore.  It's like I just kinda miss the temporary masking of my emptiness when I'm around them.  I miss feeling somewhat human when I'm talking with them.  We shoot the shit, and I feel a little less existential dread.  It's like a distraction, but it generally means nothing to me in the long run.  I can't maintain relationships anymore because I just really can't connect with any one person very well.  It's like I'm floating on a cloud of glass.  It's constantly reflecting my own blank canvas back at me.  Constantly reminding me of how empty I am.  A constant reminder that, no matter how successful I may become, I'm still just a shell, void of true human connection and love.  Not for lack of trying, but damn, I'll tell ya what....   every single person that I have let into deepest parts of whatever soul I had/have has ripped even more of it out.  I'm left with a shape-shifting personality.  I think I have identity, but then again idk if I do actually.  I am me, but what does that mean?  Am I my career?  Am I my hobbies?  Am I the blurry painful memories I carry with me?  Or, am I just a shell operating on pure reactional impulses?  I know I am a human living, breathing, feeling (well, maybe), but I don't know who it is that inhabits the shell which receives these random sensory details.  I'm almost even surpassing the anxiety that used to plague me.  It's like I'm even losing the fear.  I'm growing more and more impulsive.  It's a mask that's slipping which might be good, but I don't know what's actually under the mask.  I've been hidden for so long because of the constant judgements I've observed from those around me.  I observed opinions, judgements, and many other societal things that shaped me.  It's like I was shaped to fit into settings, but I don't know what I am outside of those settings.  I guess I'm empty.  I guess I'm a shell.  I'm a conscious ghost, impulsively going about my daily life with no purpose.  I am alone.  I am outcast even with people.  Maybe I do it to myself, or maybe it's built into my chemistry to feel empty and alone constantly searching for something to make me feel something.