Passion is hardly something that can single-handedly sustain the weight of one’s enterprise. We might be full of it at the beginning of the quest, but eventually it will wear out if there’s nothing to keep this motivation intact and sacred, when in reality all that is going to happen is that everything will just try to destroy our motivation.
The hardest thing about moving on is how rewards are so out of sight. It’s hard to engage in autotelic efforts when I feel all the risk I am going through brings no reward to me. It’s not hard to find myself walking and walking, climbing and injuring myself, and then question why the hell I am doing this.
There’s no sign there’s something for me to find at the end of the trail. In fact, everything feels so far, there are too many warnings that this is so fucking pointless to continue and I feel I am simply going in the wrong direction. I can’t know if I’m making progress. It’s hard to keep going if I don’t know where I am going and if the track I’ve chosen is taking me somewhere. But it’s demanding, so maybe surviving alone deserves merit.
I’m going up and up, but the treetops cover my ascension. I hope of a moment when it all pays off. I wish I could just find the reason to make this seem purposeful, other than simply expecting to find that reason. I wish to meet the moment the view is revealed, all at once, and the progress is shown. But as for today, I am scared even of success…