I spent most of my life, up until my mid-to-late twenties pursuing this idea of happiness. I tried pursuing happiness by attempting to find a career I was passionate about. I did this by trying out a variety of post-secondary programs, multiple different jobs, and doing copious amounts of research by reading books and browsing the web in hopes that something would catch and hold my interest for what would hopefully be the rest of my life.

That failed.

I tried to find a hobby I would love. I tried everything imaginable, from weight-lifting, reading books, playing a variety of sports, watching TV shows, writing, going out to parties, etc.

This too failed. (Although many of these were fun at the start, I quickly grew tired of them (relatively speaking))

I tried to find friends that would make life fucking awesome regardless of what job I had or what we were doing together by putting substantial amounts of effort into the friendships and trying to meet new people.

That failed too.

And yes, before I was red-pilled I tried to find a unicorn to make up for a inevitably mediocre job, friends of acquaintance, and a lack of passion in my hobbies.

After failing at every turn, I considered that either there was something fundamentally wrong with me, or that there was something fundamentally wrong with the concept of happiness, or rather the pursuit of happiness. Because in spite of all the hard work and effort I put in, in spite of the years of effort and attention I had given this concept, it had failed, I had failed, time and time again.

Not only did my anecdotal experiences regarding the pursuit of happiness not add up, the more I started to think about it and how it applied to other people, the less it made sense. It's not that the concept of living for happiness, for a hobby or career you are passionate about, doesn't make sense, but rather, how the hell is that the standard, boiler-plate advice for everyone when so many seem to lack one? How did people manage to survive and thrive before this modern era? When almost all the jobs were boring, hard, physical labour, and hobbies and entertainment were practically non-existent?

In the end though, it wasn't my thoughts that led me to a solution for my life, but rather a manga called Berserk.

In Berserk, the main character, Guts, is a miserable man. He has every right to be miserable. His life is miserable in every possible way (vagueness to avoid spoilers). And yet, when he fights, when he swings his sword, he is able to, in some sense, forget about the misery that plagues him. He is able to escape the hell that is his life.

I was not able to find the exact line, so I cannot give you a direct quote; however I do remember thinking that maybe, if I dedicate myself to my work, to being productive, to focusing on some task, maybe then the misery and depression that have plagued me for my entire life will fade . I thought that maybe life wasn't about being happy but instead, about being content and avoiding misery, as counter-intuitive as that may seem.

Since then, that is what I have done.

I work hard at my job that I get paid very little to do. And you know what? I don't mind it. In fact, I kinda enjoy it.

I am not miserable, depressed, or neurotic, like I was for almost my entire life, perhaps because I am simply too busy to be. However, from a purely objective point of view, most of my existential pain and misery has faded away. Instead, it has been replaced with a sort of- contentedness.

When I get home from work, I either do some more work, or do something productive. Whether that is working out, cleaning my house, cooking food, cleaning my car, or some other miscellaneous chore, I do not do these things because they bring me happiness or joy, but because being productive makes me feel content. I am satisfied with life, I am content, a feeling that I wouldn't have thought could be fulfilling prior to experiencing it. My constant productivity gives me a consistent sense of satisfaction that in turn, acts as a catalyst for me to be even more productive.

I am also far less concerned with my life in the long-run given than I used to be. Success, at least from a financial standpoint seems like an inevitability when you spend most of your time working.

Apart from that, I am significantly less neurotic than I used to be when I lived life for my emotions, or rather, in the pursuit of the emotion called happiness.

I have become like a rock. Immovable and unchanging. The people around me experience clear and obvious ups and downs and I stay the same, content with my life of hard work.

Many men here talk negatively bout how men are human doings. About being a slave for the plantation, of working oneself into the grave. For many, I imagine this feeling is true. I am sure that plenty of men would rather live for their hobbies or for relaxing in their spare time than for work and productivity (self-improvement in a sense). But what I've learned through personal experience is that I enjoy being a human doing.

I enjoy working.

I enjoy being productive in my spare time. Or rather, on a long-term basis, I am substantially more satisfied with life, less miserable, and over-all more content and emotionally stable when I am being productive.

I do not love being productive, I am not passionate about my job, or when I am doing chores; however, I am a hell of a lot more content, and unlike in my various pursuits of happiness, I have been able to maintain my contentedness for a long period of time.

In a strange twist of fate, One could almost say that I've never been happier.

I share my story because I bet some of you are like me.

Perhaps most men here do have a passion, a career that makes them incredibly happy, or a hobby that they absolutely adore.

But for those of you who have tried to find their passion, for those of you that have tried and failed this pursuit of happiness time and time again, perhaps you should consider that the pursuit of happiness is not right for you.

Perhaps you should consider pursuing contentment.