I am lost again

What is it I'm supposed to be doing with my life? Here I go, down this rabbit hole one more time. Am I supposed to be focusing on something specific? Or am I supposed to be letting go and letting god? Are they mutually exclusive? Is this question actually a plant by my disease to get me to go out? Is this a fair question, which must be asked in order to be free? Where is the peace in asking it, and then doing nothing. Am I responsible for answering it? Is this a chinese box? If I arrived at what I'm supposed to do and be, would that be enough? Would this be a funny stand up comedy act? Or do I have to put on a veneer, a character, to be funny. Would I be booed off the stage, by the drunken philistines out there. I could never stand the barrage of artillery the audience threw at me in stand-up comedy. I couldn't even look out in the audience. All those Alpha Males, drunk, and their girlfriends. "Should" I be different than this? How come people with the same issues seem to be able to do it? Do they suffer the slings and arrows? They must. How do they deal with it? Maybe they don't.
Here I go again. All this potential. Whip whip whip. Stop it now Tony. I didn't have to jump out of the World Trade Center. I feel like Doestoyevsky, "in a mousehole". Well, I am Russian, for God's sake. We do love our suffering. We love to dance with it. I am sure that arriving at my destination would certainly not be enough.
I AM DRUNK IN MY OWN FAILURE! WHAT A LOAD OF BULLSHIT! CRIMINY!
This is my standup act. Who would find this funny? I find it as annoying as Jerry Lewis's "Oh ladyyyyyyy".
I need not feel shame about my shame which is shameful to those who hate me. I definitely am paranoid.
IS THIS BLOG ENOUGH? ARE MY FINGERS TYPING ENOUGH?
Turn it off. This is masturbation my friends. It's for me.
OOOOOOOOOOhhhhhhhhh, yeaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh.
That made me cum.
Shame makes me cum.
Failure makes me cum.
Psychedelic self-involvement.
I am alone.