There was a time when I thought I had control over my own life. That I could plan, decide, move forward. But now, everything feels like it's slipping through my fingers, like sand I can't hold onto.
I no longer find meaning in anything. School, the future, even the smallest daily tasks—I look at them as if they belong to someone else. I tell myself I should care, that I need to keep going, but there's no reason left. I've seen the end of all paths, and they all lead to the same place. Whether rich or poor, loved or alone, we all meet the same fate.
Spring has lost its warmth for me. It no longer symbolizes beginnings but endings. The end of motivation, the end of hope, the slow fading of everything I once believed in. And yet, my body moves forward, as if searching for something. As if trying to rekindle a fire that has long since gone out.
But how do you move toward the future when the future itself feels like nothing?
YOU ARE READING
Endless Twilight
Random"Endless Twilight" is a journal of alienation, an honest confession about losing motivation and the emptiness left by the absence of a clear future. Between twilight and spring, between endings and beginnings, the protagonist oscillates between desp...
