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I am tired. Tired in a way that sleep never fixes. Tired of searching and never stumbling into something that feels like joy. I have tried everything that ever carried the promise of happiness. Swimming clubs, theater groups, reading circles, writing workshops, math teams, science fairs, chess boards laid out like quiet battlefields. Piano keys under my fingers, guitar strings humming against my chest, the thin cry of a violin, the brass breath of saxophones, trumpets, trombones. Volleyball courts, long bike rides, yoga mats, pilates studios. Model United Nations, mock parliaments, rooms full of voices pretending to shape the world. And still the list keeps going, stretching behind me like a road that leads nowhere.
I have knocked on every door they pointed at and every single one opened into the same empty room. White walls. Nothing waiting for me there.
Nothing makes my heart beat. Nothing grabs me by the throat and says: this, this is why you’re here. People talk about passion like it’s a fire. I feel like wet ash. Like something burned out before it ever really caught. The world keeps insisting it’s full of color, full of wonder, full of things worth loving, and I keep staring at it like a broken screen.
What is the point of living if nothing moves you, if nothing sets your soul trembling, if the world keeps unfolding and you feel like a spectator trapped behind glass?
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Sue
I had felt the same way too and I realized that just coming into this world and leaving it shouldn't be this meaningless, so I started dreaming and striving for those dreams. Taking people's advice might not feel always good, but I think you should dream. I guess that's how life goes on.
I really appreciate you sharing that. I think what you said comes from a hopeful place, and I don’t take that lightly.
But I think what’s exhausting isn’t the absence of dreams. It’s the constant trying.
I didn’t sit still and decide life was meaningless. I went looking for meaning. I signed up, showed up, practiced, performed, competed, read, played, trained. I did the “dream” part. I followed the advice. I chased the spark people kept promising would appear if I just kept moving.
And maybe that’s where the disconnect is. When nothing naturally pulls you in, “just dream” can sound like “just fix it.”
I don’t think life is meaningless. I think sometimes people get tired of performing aliveness. Of pretending excitement will eventually stick. Of forcing meaning instead of feeling it.
Maybe life goes on through dreams for some people. Maybe for others it goes on through something quieter. Through curiosity. Through stubbornness. Through faith. Through staying, even when you don’t feel the fire.
I don’t reject what you’re saying. I just don’t know how to dream on command.
But I’m still here. And maybe, for now, that’s the only honest thing I can offer.
by magical girl coco; ; Report