Few poems are as honest about being stuck as this one. The speaker wants to do better, thinks about doing better, and never quite manages it. Two lines return at the end of every stanza, "Doing it on loop" and "Sitting in a void", so the poem repeats the very trap it describes. Nothing moves forward, and the reader feels that.
The feelings are tiredness, fear and self-suspicion. The speaker is scared of trying something new but knows the old methods no longer work. They even catch themselves exaggerating their struggles, admitting that some of their questions are "just for attention." That moment of self-awareness makes the poem feel real rather than dramatic. By the end, the speaker is underplaying their own abilities and unsure how serious things have become.
The mood is heavy, quiet and weary, with a small hint of hope in the fact that the speaker can see the pattern at all.