Curiosity kept me alive, but what now?

CN: Suicidal thoughts, mentions of self-harm and body image, and many unanswered questions

I’m unwell and I have no qualms about saying that. I don’t remember a day where I haven’t had thoughts of self-harming, taking my own life, criticism about my body, and more. It’s an intrinsic part of my life, it has been for a long time, and it probably will in the future. Despite that, what’s usually kept me going and kept me sane – or at least as sane as I’m going to be – is knowing that there might be something around the corner, something unexpected and potentially wondrous that plants a tiny seed of curiosity for what the future will hold. However, as each day now drags on, those sparks of curiosity are fewer and further between, and coping with that is beginning to prove impossible.

I don’t know about you, but to me the world is a complete and utter shitshow. Every day I wake up to a new calamity, be it the obscene amount of death, the sheer number of people who seem to hate me for just existing, or frankly everything else that’s awful in the world. These things don’t make me curious; they make me want to bury my head in the ground and hope to suffocate. There is just so little good left.

How do you cope with that?
How do you go to bed knowing that when you wake up, the small amounts of hope you have left are going to be continually crushed into miniscule pieces?
How do you deal with not being curious anymore?