@llfocus: — I genuinely can't pinpoint when it happened. — When what happened. — When the thing I used to love turned into something I just push myself through. There wasn't a single day I could point to. No moment where I decided, this isn't fun anymore, I'm doing it out of obligation now. It just quietly crossed that line somewhere I wasn't watching. — Do you remember what it felt like before. — Barely. I remember the shape of the feeling more than the feeling itself. I know there used to be this pull toward it, something that made me want to start before I even had to. Now there's just this low resistance every time, like my whole body has to be talked into doing the thing that used to talk me into it on its own. — So you're forcing yourself through it now. — Every time. And the strange part is I keep doing it anyway, on autopilot almost, like the habit outlived the actual desire and nobody told my hands to stop. — Why do you think you keep going if you don't want to. — I think because stopping would mean admitting something I'm not ready to admit. That the version of me who loved this might not exist anymore. That whatever changed, changed quietly enough that I never got a chance to grieve it properly, so it just sits there unresolved, and I keep showing up to the thing hoping the old feeling will show up too if I just push through enough times. — Has it come back, even once. — No. Not once. Every time I finish, there's just this flat, used-up feeling instead of whatever satisfaction used to be there. And then I do it again the next day anyway, because stopping feels like losing something, even though continuing doesn't feel like having it either. — So why do you force yourself. — Honestly, I don't know anymore. I don't even like it. I think I just don't know who I am on the other side of not doing it, and that unknown scares me more than doing something I no longer enjoy. #щп #щитпост

werni🪽

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Sunday 06 September 2026 16:55:58 GMT