Getting Used To It

In the beginning, I fought it.  I tried to resist.  But I've grown tired.  And I don't see the point of fighting it anymore.

I'm getting used to the soul-numbing monotony.  The endless parade of days that are the same.  Except for a day every 2-3 weeks, everything is the same.

I'm getting used to the soul-crushing loneliness.  The waking hours where I will not speak to any one or even be acknowledged.  Sometimes, I wonder if I exist.  Maybe I'm just imagining things.  Maybe it's all a horrible nightmare.  My life has become a series of brief, superficial encounters with strangers.

I'm so horridly weary of everything. I'm not so sure I see the point of all this anymore.

Why am I here?  What am I supposed to be doing with my life?  Where am I going?

I've been told I need to change my life.  Hmm.  indeed.  Perhaps I ought to.  But why?  What difference will it make?  Maybe I already know I need to make changes, but haven't the foggiest notion of how or what.

All I know is that it wasn't supposed to be like this.