into the fact that life has failed to generate a true purpose, or "why you shouldn't bother getting out of bed"

I'm going to be brutally frank, life has been completely and utterly disappointing, or more to the point human beings have shown to be of little help or in fact actual use to this individual. This is mostly because of their utter failure to provide the emotional support, or satisfactory career, or a society with any greater meaning other than the meaningless chase of fame and material wealth, or the ability to follow through on the most simple promises. Last night I had another person promise to do something, and, yet again, fail to even come up with a reason for not following through. My roommate didn't understand why, a week ago, when I lost contact I took it as a bad sign. This is because my roommate, being an attractive young lady, has not had the enlightening experience of being treated with utter indifference by the opposite sex. Being blown off for a date is usually not a one time thing, it's the beginning of a pattern, which will end with never hearing from the person again. They of course only do this AFTER ensnaring your emotions, because, again I have to make assumptions, it wouldn't be fun otherwise. Of course she can prove me wrong if she wants, but nothing she has said so far has happened, and I don't really know what to believe.

I'm feeling particularly pointless about life in general, and if I didn't want to have a smoke and maybe do something with my day I wouldn't get out of bed. One reason is my bed is a glorious happy place and the world outside my house is more close to a hellish disappointing shadow of what may have once been a functional society. Yet eventually I will venture out into it again... due to my house's inability to support itself.