My money is on depressed. Humans weren't meant to sit in a tiny box all day staring at screens. Every part of his life is like a bear trap he has to avoid. His financial illiteracy, his bankruptcy, his foreclosure, I bet he's starting to lapse on his current mortgage as well, he has no friends, no family or relatives to regularly reach out to. He eats garbage food, he gets no exercise, he drinks, and his sleeping habits are atrocious. This behavior is, shockingly, not conducive to improving one's well-being.
The time for him to have spoken to an objective voice, some kind of therapy, for even a fucking hour a month, was probably about the time Leanna broke up with him. He should have worked through the emotional baggage, not married the rebound like a fucking moron, figured out why he couldn't stop lying about everything, and couldn't stop spending his money like a trust fund baby.
Instead of walking through each of these things trying to make a dent in his mental health he instead leans into them. He spends more, he lies more, he drinks more, he gets more uptight about his worthless dead-bedroom marriage, he demands more money to gamble away and he demands more attention with longer and longer pre-streams and voice-recorded tweets and whatever else. And he's dripping in weird machismo so he probably thinks therapy is for *other people*, not him.
He is 100% severely depressed and there's no one in the world who has any interest in helping him out of it, and he's too narcissistic, and relies on his lies far too much, to take active steps to improve himself. He's *made it*, he's found his level in life, and this is what it looks like, and will look like, for the foreseeable future.
