What is the point? I feel like I am working myself to death.
What is the end goal? I am missing something that everyone else seems to understand.
What am I doing wrong? I didn’t get the instruction manual for life.
What about my mistakes? I can’t seem to dig myself out from under the large pile of debt and failed career choices I have made.
Every day is the same.
Every week is the same.
Every month is the same.
Every year is the same.
No one knows how I truly feel about anything. No one will ever know how I truly feel about anything. I don’t know how I feel about anything. I feel almost nothing. It’s empty in here.
I haven’t cried in years. I laugh rarely. I never feel love, or hate. Nor remorse, pity, excitement, or inspiration.
I sleep for inordinately large amounts of time these days, though. It’s good because it cuts out large swaths of time that I no longer have to be awake for. I can literally sleep nearly all of Saturday away in one go (20 hours). If I can let myself go, I can easily sleep for more than 12 hours at a time. I’m not sure why this is relevant.