/lit/ - Literature

Hello /lit/. I'm 18 years old and have failed my first college semester (and classes I took in 12th grade) due to getting depressed and apathetic. Why do all this work for a piece of paper that might get me a job? I don't even care about money enough to want a demanding and high-paying job, why are my parents doing this to me without understanding who I am?

I got high again last night and became, what I believe is, self aware. I'm not sure to what extent others have experienced this, but I looked at myself and others through a very different lens. We are all these creatures made of matter that move around and do things. It's very weird *how* we exist, but *why* is another strange question. We are like cartoon characters aware that we have certain functions and quirks. But there are others! Our neighbors experience a lot of what we do. It's like we take comfort in how scared we are of existence through our similarities. So much so that we fight wars just to keep the unfamiliar away.

Looking at things this way has left me at a standstill. My old goals were to redeem my low status. Feel loved by my family and random strangers. Now I need a new one, and reason for it. We basically die doing nothing. Boredom and nothingness has caused me, and many in this new era mental illness like depression and anxiety. It's like we're built to die if we don't force ourselves to face suffering. But we die anyways.
After the high, I can't see people the same. Nobody is below or above me. We're all weird specimen who don't know what to do and are trying handle this burden placed on us: suffering and then death. In between are these occasional moments of joy and excitement. Moments that seem to justify the burden we're faced. My own parents, who were once a source of comfort and security, safe exploration and certainty, are now humans, not very different from myself. With this way of looking at them, why did they create me? To present a source of meaning? A source of challenge so their bodies don't wither away in nihilistic depression? It makes me wonder why I should do the same and bring another consciousness into such a strange and difficult existence, just so they can ponder these same questions.

It might be obvious from this post that I'm a pretty cynical person. I don't have many (if any) friends, and I'll be losing them once I drop out for a full-time job. I have a lot more to say about socializing, but this is already feeling long.

What would you recommend someone like me read? I've read 12 rules for life, but something just wasn't working for me. Maybe I didn't apply it all hard enough. I want something that really wants to find the "truth". I don't know what to do with myself, and I don't enjoy life all that often or much. Something to help justify my suffering.