The poem describes someone who has shut down. He doesn't eat, sleep, or leave his bed, and nothing feels worth doing. The short, repeated lines starting with "He doesnt" make the list feel heavy and flat, like the days themselves, each one the same as the last.
What hurts most is that nobody notices. People don't ask what's wrong or whether he's feeling any better, and the speaker says he's "used to it." The line "And thats okay" sounds more like resignation than real acceptance, as if he has stopped expecting anything else.
Underneath is a wound that hasn't healed: his friends left him over a year ago and weren't there for him during a hard situation. The poem doesn't say what that situation was, and it doesn't need to. The ending repeats that he "just cant get over it," and the plain, almost stuck wording leaves a mood of loneliness, exhaustion, and quiet sadness with no resolution.