Lost Interest in Everything

Empty Routine

I wake up to an empty silence. No alarm blares, no birds chirp, no thoughts rush through my mind. I simply exist, a blank slate staring up at the ceiling.

I roll out of bed, my movements mechanical, and begin my routine. I wash my face with lukewarm water, the sensation numbing my skin. I brush my teeth, the toothpaste foaming in my mouth, but the taste is dull. I get dressed in the same outfit I wear every day - a white shirt, black pants, and scuffed up sneakers.

The mirror reflects a blank expression, a face devoid of emotions. My eyes are dull, my skin pale, my hair messy. I don't smile, I don't frown. I just am.

I head to the kitchen, my footsteps echoing off the walls. I pour myself a bowl of cereal, the milk splashing into the bowl with a hollow sound. I eat in silence, the only sound the crunch of the cereal between my teeth.

I grab my bag, a worn-out backpack with a broken zipper, and head out the door. The city is alive outside, the sounds of car horns, chatter, and construction filling the air. But I'm not alive. I'm just a ghost drifting through the crowds.

I arrive at work, a small café on the outskirts of town, and clock in. My coworker, a cheerful girl with a bright smile, greets me with a "good morning!" but I just nod in response. I start my shift, my movements mechanical, my interactions minimal. I'm a shell of a person, going through the motions.

The day blends together in a haze of nothingness. No excitement, no fear, no joy. Just emptiness.

And then, my shift ends. I clock out, head home, and start the cycle again.

As I walk home, the sun sets behind me, casting a golden glow over the city. But I don't notice. I'm too empty to feel anything.