I Am Existing, Not Living

I go through each day. Sleep, eat, work, repeat. Sometimes I might socialize for an hour or two, but I never do the talking anymore. It used to be that I was out and about all the time. People were my dry of choice. Friends made the world go round. I could sleep when I was dead. I was alive. But now, sometimes getting up is even too much. My days off I have to push myself to do even the simplest of things. I do nothing out of joy, only of utmost necessity. I don't know how to live anymore. Just to exist. Just to keep moving through this space like I have been. I keep holding out hope that maybe I'll find my footing again one day. But I've been swept off my feet and I don't know if, when, or where I'm going to land.