I am so sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you will never be happy.
I don't mean to hurt you by saying that. I say it because I think it is only fair that I be honest with you before we begin. I hope you appreciate this because no one will be fair or honest with you from here on out. So again, I'm telling you right now: You will never be happy. I've put it in writing for you, and you're very welcome.
I want you to go outside on the sunniest, sweatiest day of the year and quietly say it aloud. "I will never be happy." Even in the heat, you should be able to see your own cold, smoky breath acknowledge the statement. The only way to avoid seeing your breath is to say it proudly like a wise man. "I will never be happy!" Try it sometime.
When I think of you, I think of a cartoon cloud hovering over your head, a private torrential downpour. I see you soaking wet, your entire being drooping, and you're always sick because you can't stay dry. Depressed by the bad weather, you cry yourself a little river, but the tears evaporate and form into another cloud that rains on you even more. You can't win.
It will be sad. You will never get the girl. You will not save the world. You will never find true love. You will not find a trustworthy friend. You will never be satisfied. You will never have enough. The grass could always be greener. The grass will always need mowing. Your days will be long and contain no fun. Your nights will be lonely and not much else. You will always be waiting for better days that will never arrive. And you will most definitely never have peace of mind.
There will be days when you will collapse to your knees and screamingly plead your case to whatever might be listening. But The Thing Called God can't help you, and It won't.
Ahhh. Sweet sweet cynicism.