Get me more Choglet

Pujo is here. The year flew by faster than earlier years. I thought I could completely ignore Pujo this time, but it seems I will soon start feeling bad about being an outsider yet again. My affections for two people have gone unreciprocated and I have generally been in a pall of depression -- it is that -- about this and aimlessness in life and no idea of a greater purpose and what to do to have more fun, or find stuff that is more fulfilling (such vapid words filled with such meaning). I hate being with my mother. I barely speak to her except when necessary and retreat to my room the rest of the time. I am glad I have a room. She only comes to me when she needs something, which includes money to buy medicines and other household stuff or her own stuff, doctor's appointments, check her sugar/BP/tell her what to do about something related to her health, or to complain about something that someone said or something that didn't go right. I, in turn, speak to her only when something goes wrong, when I eventually start yelling, if I need to inform her about something, or if I need her to get me/make me something. The food she gets cooked mostly tastes horrible, so I only eat what I must and because I need to, and sometimes not even that. That is one more reason why I yell. The more I reduce what I can take from this household, which I squarely support, it is reduced a little bit more. I guess I should demand more, so that what I get comes close to what I want. I have hired a maid for 10k, who spends most of the day sleeping and has tonnes of attitude. I am letting things be until Diwali or whenever we go home, and then I hope to be able to let her go and find someone. My mother is completely incapable of managing someone who works for her, so she allows people to sit on her head and then yells at them, and then they yell back at her in insulting ways which she has no idea how to counter.
This is life. This has been life for the past one year. Does it then not make sense why  I feel completely directionless? I don't know where to go from here or what to do, except to continue.
Can I even wish that there were a way out, that all this would go away? Yes, there were good things too and other terribly sad things which don't sit on my mind like the rest, but this isn't a list of all that. Do I find refuge in books? Yes, they are a refuge. Maybe things would have been worse without them. Friends in office too, but that doesn't make all of this go away.
Well, my mother is here in my room, and refuses to finish her business quickly and leave. So I am just going to finish this.