Fake depth

Counting the ridges on my perfectly sculptured ceiling,
I have stared at them too long that they are beginning to change each time.
With a blank mind I decided to dust the cobwebs off these pages, 
Expressions get harder as my will grows weaker by the day
Lost the will to communicate, to feed, to be
Frankly I have lost the will to simply exist,
When everything you thought or believed in fails you
The sweet stench of utter depression only feets away and you have no choice but to get acquinted with it
Friends and family dont fill the void anymore
Music, my only means of escape
Has shut its doors on me
I walk the streets a stranger in my own world, 
Like a zombie, deadshot
Eyes lacking warmth, Unable to feel
Uninterested in trying, fake deep and losing hope,
None to talk to, because none can really understand,
The joy of fake amd seasonal friendship
Telling you what they think you want to hear, while sharpening a knife at your back,
This used to be my only means of therapy,  now it holds even less value
But this is the life I've come to know and accept, 
Have no desire for the thoughts of random people anymore
They all seem inferior to my complexity
Now I only find solace in books
Where I can make an entire world,  another reality
Re-enact the authors thoughts in my head
Where I dont have to deal with the reality
The ordinariness and frevolities of the human kind
Where I can be alien and belong at the same time
I now understand the simple pleasures of life
Dreams are still dreams, but without the power to alter or coax
Nothing to do but sit and wait
But its the waiting part that induces my mental coma
Nothing has changed,  the feeble faith I had in myself is dying
This year was supposed to yield good things
Although I had no expectations or resolutions
But soo far, its brought nothing but sadness
Just trolled here on the same lane
Still Lost, Still unwilling