I have trouble imagining anything that could make me feel happy. I think the Stoics were essentially right. Which is a bit frustrating as it makes the following 2000 years of philosophy feel a bit extraneous. But essentially the Stoics just said: Life's shit, so why not be cheerful? Or, not even "be cheerful" I suppose, just that if life's shit anyway, why make it more shit by imagining that it could be less shit? Like, it would save a hell of a lot of time and effort to just acknowledge it, yeah ok, this sucks. But for some reason the actual act of doing that is quite difficult, it's quite painful, to sit in the feeling that life may not get better. Like, you can feel your brain wanting to go: "but maybe... maybe you could feel better! Maybe if you just went to the gym more often, you lazy fuck! Maybe if you got your act together and read all those books you've been meaning to read, maybe if you had the body of a Greek God, maybe if you took these supplements... happiness could be right around the corner!"

A quite cynical take would be that advertising and mass media has programmed that feeling into us. The feeling that we're somehow lacking, defective, and that there's some solution that would make things alright. Conveniently, the solution is available for 29.99 from your nearest supermarket. That's probably somewhat true. But also, consider the possibility that perhaps human beings are simply not designed to feel happy, only (if we're lucky) long periods of neutrality interrupted by brief moments of ecstasy, and moments of terrible pain. But the problem is, if you know that the possibility of ecstasy exists, then you won't notice that most of your life is, at best, dull monotony, for the mere chance of feeling the highest of highs.

We know intuitively that it's only suffering that brings meaning, because all the best works of art are tragedies.

Life is unfair. We know this. But do you ever ponder exactly how unfair it is? Just think about if for a second. You're born to two people, without asking to be born, and you have no say in the genetic material you receive, the place you're born, how much money your parents have, or any of the other facts of your life. And then once you're old enough they go "figure it out, stupid" and send you out in the world to fend for yourself. Don't you think that's fucking insane?

If you ever have the nerve to express the slightest dissatisfaction with this arrangement, you'll be met with a mob of angry people who mock you and say things to the effect of: "Boo hoo, life's shit, get over it!" or "Jesus died for your sins, be grateful for your life!" or "Don't you know how lucky you are to even be alive? You could've been born in the middle of the Black Plague, or into a starving African village, or any number of other things!" But the funny thing about that is I'm pretty certain that during the Black Plague, someone must have at one point said, "You could've been born when the Mongols invaded, you ungrateful fuck!"

So anyway, the Stoics were right. What now? Well, I suppose if you expect the worst, the worst feels less bad. So give up hope. Right? Is that the answer?