Layout By: Erelah Janika Geniza
Published By: Patrick Lance Guerra
Date Piblished: January 29, 2026
Time Published: 5:30 PM
CATEGORY: Prose
SUBJECT: Losing motivation
I remember the time when motivation came naturally. It didn’t need to be searched for or forced into existence. It simply lived in me—quiet but steady. It was guiding my steps through long days and longer expectations. Back then, effort felt meaningful as progress felt possible. Now, everything feels dimmer.
I wake up and follow routines the way a reporter follows leads; out of duty, not excitement. I spend hours collecting moments that are supposed to matter—classes, conversations, deadlines—but they blur together, stripped of urgency. I still take notes, and I still observe. But the passion that once fueled my curiosity has begun to thin, like ink drying out in the middle of a sentence.
People don’t notice the change. On the surface, nothing is broken. I still function, still meet expectations, still carry myself as someone who knows where they’re going. Motivation is tricky; it doesn’t disappear loudly. It fades silently. But it will always leave behind a hollow persistence—the act of continuing without the certainty of purpose.
I question myself often. When did trying become tiring? When did ambition start feeling like a burden instead of a promise? Maybe it happened slowly, after too many disappointments that never made headlines, after stories I believed in were left unfinished. Or maybe it came from giving too much energy to things that never gave anything back.
The light inside me hasn’t vanished completely. It lingers, weak but present, like the last glow of a lamp post at dawn. It doesn’t guide anymore—it just reminds me of what I used to be. I hate to admit but that reminder hurts more than the darkness.
Still, I keep going. Not because I am inspired, but because stopping would mean admitting the light is gone. And even though I barely have any passion left inside of me, I am not ready to write that ending yet.
No comments:
Post a Comment