The Book of the Dead.

It's weird and I suppose with the number of people in this world, there must be others who feel the same way, but it still just feels like it's only me going through this, at least in this small corner of the world.

Lately I wake up feeling like a blank note of paper, nothing written upon me at all, no feelings about it,
just walking around empty and tired, regardless of how much sleep I get.

Drinking coffee doesn't seem to change anything much.
I can't seem to find anything to hold onto, even though I continue to look for something.
I'll make a list if I have things to do, I'll get most done if it has to be today, but I might as well be a robot, nothing feels real.

I don't have anything to look forward to,but again I am looking.
I can't find anything to be excited about, and bed keeps calling my name.

Everything isn't this awful, I mean some things have gotten better.
I tend to feel this way regardless of how my life is actually going.
Everything is always a dumpster fire to me, its just sometimes; life adds lighter fluid.

But the blankness is new, it feels like I am still asleep, and when I notice it; it is then that I notice how strange everything else feels.
Like I am watching myself like a movie, an autopilot that I am aware of.
Watching through a window but I am not apart of it.
More episodes of detachment I guess?
Yet it feels different somehow.