I took a lit class in high school, and I forget the term they used but there was a unit that was basically all just depressing short stories. Like bad things always happening, there's no light at the end of the tunnel, ending somehow worse than you thought it could get. The teacher made a point for us to take a look at the people struggling in these stories, and how they kept going despite the pointlessness. It's something that's weirdly stuck with me.

I'd like to think I'm someone who would keep doing the next right thing even as all the lights go out. Like I'm on a dying planet just crawling through the muck because it seems like the right thing to do. Or being Kirsten Dunst in Melancholia.

I'm not like an optimistic person but I think this attitude keeps me from really dooming out.