This is an issue that's gotten worse for me over the years. Everything is boring. There's no emotion to be felt in anything. There's no point to work, or to school - money has never mattered to me. I'm just going through the motions of life, but as the responsibilities start to pile up as a child must grow away from their parents, I find myself not caring for these responsibilities. The benefits that come with them mean nothing. This is not to sound spoiled, that I want to be taken care of forever or anything like that. I would not demand that from anyone, and I paid for this college semester myself outright with money saved that I never spent a dime of besides on necessary costs (e.g. gas). I have tried many interests over the years and nothing has ever sparked a passion. I have had a wide variety of friends, introverts, extroverts and the whole range of friendship, and it's never done anything for me, or changed me, as people would say for a more reserved person like myself to "get out of their shell". I tested that, and it did nothing for me. People have always had nothing but good things to say about me (so far as I've heard, of course), and I was always deemed a great friend. Recreational drugs might be good for me, but the risk of addiction is too great, because if they do offer me a fantastical release, then that might be enough of a reason to completely stop caring about everything else.
It is difficult to explain this without coming off the wrong way. I've never really met another person like me, and that's not a good thing. It is not depression. Life just offers nothing. And neither does death. Both are equally pointless. So suicide's not an option, since one day I could change and then life would be better, or if I was really driven to the point of suicide, abandoning my life as is would be more appealing.
There is a bit of partial identification that I have with Patrick Bateman as the following quote reads:
“...there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there.”
Has anyone felt like this or perhaps known someone like that? I've felt this way mostly my whole life, but the detachment just keeps growing greater, and I've never found a way to ground myself.