That fucking anvil

My bedroom ceiling is a sight im very used to, I spend hours every day laying in bed staring at it. It doesnt matter how much I want to get up and go. It doesnt matter if I have things to do, or places to be. It doesnt matter how much I try and force myself. That fucking anvil sits on my chest and stops me from escaping.

Obviously, its not a literal anvil, but it feels like it is. Like, I can feel physical pressure on my chest every time I think to myself "okay Joe, time to move." And whilst I can roll, maybe stare at the wall to break the monotony of the ceiling, i cant bring myself to stand.

I cant remember when It started. I cant remember when it got this bad. I cant remember when I realised I have to wake up hours earlier than I need to, just 5o psyche myself up to get out of bed. That fucking anvil. I can feel it now. I have things I want to do today, but pinned as I am, I dont know when. If im too late, that anvil will be heavier, as it fills me with doubt.

Its especially bad now that I have no purpose. No reason to wake up. Its been a very tough month, and I have not seen outside these four walls nearly as often as I should. I barely exist, let alone live. Sometimes, I wonder if I even exist at all or if this is just a dream of someone slowly fading.

Kexys.