None of It Feels Right Anymore

The things I used to love, or even used to like--
None of it feels right anymore. 
I feel too anxious to sit down and read,
I feel guilty taking time to sit down and write.
I lose myself in a video game and feel ashamed--
None of it feels right anymore. 

I try to pray or worship God,
But my devotions feel like hypocrisy.
I go for a walk or ride the exercise bike,
And my dopamine receptors blink and shrug--
None of it feels right anymore. 
I take my medication or I don't,
I try to eat healthy or I don't, 
I do my work and it feels empty--
None of it feels right anymore. 

Even writing this poem feels like a repetitious lie.
I want to scream, I want to yell, 
I want to get angry, I want to break something, 
I want to feel some feeling beyond a blase
Numbness that feels like emoting through gelatin--
None of it feels right anymore. 

And as I ponder, weak and weary, 
On a Tuesday morning too indifferent to be dreary, 
I don't even have a tormentor to blame.
I would curse this thing if I only knew its name.
Depression? Anxiety? PTSD? Me?
I wish I had some hope to give--
None of it feels right anymore. 

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