What life?

If life is suppose to be so wonderful then why do I hate is so much? Why have I never felt happiness or love? Why do I cry myself to sleep at night, or more commonly why can I not sleep but is forced to lay awake wondering how I turned out this messed up? Each day I turn more in towards myself. I can feel myself disappearing. Every day I break down crying because I do not know how to do all these things I am expected to do. Each time I am handed an assignment I feel like I can do this, but as soon as I read the instructions I get an anxiety attack since I do not understand what I am supposed to do. Nothing makes sense anymore. I cannot even answer a stupid question anymore. I rarely speak anymore, as if I have forgotten how to. I can not remember the last time I had a sincere smile on my face. Not even things that usually make me laugh brings a laughter, only crying. Crying because I do not laugh, not even smile. The worst part is that I thought I was getting better. In hindsight it seems foolish, that I even for a moment dared believe that I could possibly be getting better. What am I even doing with my life? But then what life? How could this possibly be regarded as a life?