I was about to say you're me, but then I remember I have no friends at all. So, at least you can be comfortable someone else is more pathetic.
I'm not seeing a correlation here.
But this is the real killer. Some people are somehow able to live without a big objective. Living in the now, I guess, focusing on the journey rather than any destination. Blessed are they, because you just can't comprehend why someone would want to live for the sake of living.
So you imagine you can work towards one of those scenarios our society deems desirable, a hedonist lifestyle or an ascetic saint or anything in between. You find entirely too many of them downright repugnant for a number of reasons, but even if you didn't, you can't find one that you think you can reach, because you have no talent, passion or calling – not outside our shared lost cause, at any rate. Even if you had the personality and, let's not forget, the opportunity, to be successful and popular, your distaste for this gay Earth would likely stop you.
So you figure, if I'm going to suffer, might as well suffer for a good cause. Except you can't. The closest thing you can do is catch a bullet in Rojava, but we all know that that anarchist experiment is marked for death, like all others before it.
So unless you happen to be a genius theorist, there is no way you can actually further the cause even a little bit and improve the word for good, all you can do is try to amelliorate it. The proverbial band-aid on a tumor. And you can't stand this, you can't work towards this ephemeral change, this illusory improvement. It feels like wasted effort and time at best and prolonging the suffering of a dying man at worst.
And you don't want to change the world so you can be a hero, you just want to change the world for the better because that's the only worth fighting for. It doesn't matter that you die alone and is soon forgotten, so long as you lived for a purpose. The purpose.
Am I right?