Ensnaring Apathy

I never in all my life thought that I'd feel this alone--this lonely. It's like I have no purpose, no plans, no future, no prospects. I suppose if I'm honest these are just feelings talking and in reality they're rubbish, but still, they're here, inside my heart. I can't even begin to describe the way it eats at my heart and mind until I realize that my hands are trembling and my stomach is sick even while my face is stoic and I try to keep myself from crying. Some people say it's just the 20s stage and that everyone goes through it, but instead of bringing me comfort that knowledge just makes me feel more and more like I'm drowning--alone. And not just drowning, but drowning in water that is so cold that it has paralyzed me to the point that I can no longer struggle, but just let it come.
Without hope.
I wish I didn't have these feelings, these emotions.
I wish that I could wake up with a still heart instead of feeling like I'm missing something somewhere--someone. In this house alone so many days I rush around doing things that seem so important to my tired mind all the while knowing deep inside that nothing I do really makes any difference at all.
Instead of enjoying a cup of coffee in the cool fall air I find myself chugging a cup of coffee gone cold and I stay inside the house tinkering with things that don't matter, or searching for diy projects on Pinterest that I know deep down I really have no intention of doing. I spend too much time curling my hair or planning my outfit when I know that I'm not going to leave the house. I look at my face in the mirror and find myself despairing over a little acne or a few scars. I look at an unread book that is begging to be read but instead I flit around the house doing nothing that nourishes my soul.
What is this strange apathy that has crept into my heart and into the deepest recesses of my mind? My ability to retain knowledge or the memory of what happened last week is slipping away, and I feel it. I'm not being stretched. I'm not learning. I'm not writing. I'm not working. I'm not reading.
All I am is fading.
It's no wonder I feel so empty.
I feel so tired, and yet--I have no energy or ambition to do anything.
Even as I write these words my eyes are struggling to keep themselves open and my once-hot cup of Earl Grey tea is poised lukewarm in my hand.
What can I do to break this cycle? There must be a way--there must.