Fed up.

This morning I woke up, and decided I was fed up. Every day seems to become even more empty. All of my days start out like this: Wake up, drink coffee, eat breakfast, and try to do things that occupy the emptiness I feel. It’s the same story every single day, walking to the kitchen, greeting my dogs, washing the dishes, checking my email and social media accounts, wishing I had a text from someone, wanting to feel like people genuinely cared. But actually, people do care. In fact, people care a lot about me, but I’m the one who pushes them away every single time. My anxiety tells me that staying home and doing nothing is what keeps my heart full, but as the days go by, I start to feel more and more empty without the warmth of a friend. Somehow, I have this feeling of hope, still. That one day things are going to be okay, one day I will surround myself with positive beautiful in a nice environment, and one day I won’t be so goddam anxious all the time. Until then, I’ll be sitting here, sulking in my emptiness and truly feeling this inevitable loneliness.