Don't wanna live and lacking the motivation to kill myself

When does this tireless, lifelong marathon end? Does it ever end? How many miles do I have to walk alone in this road of loneliness and despair? How many mountains do I have to climb? My legs hurt at this point, literally. My body aches. And the brain - oh, the brain sometimes almost explodes inside the corpse.

What happened to that soul that found romanticism in loneliness? Why do I crave people now? And run away when they come near me?

What happened to the little boy who used to write, read, and build fun things. What happened to that happy soul who spent countless hours solving chess puzzles? I don't even enjoy chess anymore. Can't finish a book anymore. The pen feels too heavy to even hold let alone write anything with it.

What life does to a soul except for barring it under responsibilities, social norms, and thousands of contradicting feelings? What does life do except for sucking the living life out of a soul? Life sucks you up until there's no you left. I don't even exist anymore. Just a corpse and some bones walking around.

What's the point of going through it all just to end up dead? And if death is the final destiny, why not just die today? Sometimes I wonder if dying is the most noble thing a soul can do and feels like it is. Why can't I just die then? Why do I live just to see life picking me apart one piece at a time? Why do I lack the motivation to die?