Nothing really excites me now

I don't really know what I wanted to say. My mind is filled with half-baked thoughts and gelatinous ideas. I'll just write what comes to mind; half-cooked as it might be. I am basically engaged in "auto-pilot" mode. I realize that I don't do much now other than the bare essentials - eat, sleep and work. I don't draw anymore. I know something is wrong when I stop drawing. Throughout my life, drawing was what I did whenever I got stressed, unhappy or just needed a form of escape. Perhaps it is like a chance to enter a beautiful world, to escape from the mundane, as well as the cruelty of life. I drew dinosaurs, superheroes, robots, gadgets, monsters and aliens. It was interesting, engaging and ultimately helped me to imagine a better world. Sure it was a fantasy, but it also represented a higher aspiration. Something that was quite out of reach being imagined, brought to life by my pencil and paper. It was my magic weapon against the chains of reality, a portal of escape from the everyday. Yet these chains of reality grow heavier and more tiresome each day and the imagination is imprisoned. I don't drag my ass to work anymore. I just go there, do my job as best I can (without passion) and then go home. I tend slump by my heater, have dinner and watch TV. I am often drained by the time I get home. I doze off often on my couch like an old man. It is like the fire has gone from me, my soul surrendered to the yoke of conformity. I don't even feel sad anymore. Just tired. I thought I shouldn't be like this. I should be excited by each day that I have. But I am not. Each day of life seems to be a like a "scratch-and-win" card God gives us. You have seen and heard of other people winning but just not you. After a while, it is just "What the fuck, I'll just scratch the card when I get one. Probably won't win but at least I didn't lose anything." I wonder if there will come a day where I can't even be bothered to scratch... That might just be the day I win something. Oh, the irony.