This year began like a firecracker. Restless days. Rushed plans. Life seemed to have picked up a rhythm that felt unstoppable. There was an energy and a sense that finally things were starting to mean something. But somewhere along this ride, things slowed down and then stopped altogether. Everything that was once moving forward now stands still. A full stop where there should have been motion.
What was once adrenaline has turned into inertia. A body that used to roam around mountains now barely steps outside. The world has reduced to four walls and indoors have started to feel airless. Not that something tragic happened. It is worse than that. Nothing happened. Nothing at all. Just a slow freezing of everything that was once alive. Even the bike, once a companion on roads unknown, stands untouched. Covered in dust.
There is a desire to scream, to vanish, to find some fresh air. But even that feels out of reach now. Everything keeps piling up, the mind stays cluttered and the world keeps pressing in and even the smallest things now seem to ask why they matter at all. Being twenty five was not supposed to feel like this. The pressure is not explosive but a slow choke.
Talking to people has started feeling like a task. Not out of hate. Not even frustration. Just the absence of want. Conversations do not feel necessary anymore. There is no push to keep things going, no urge to explain, no interest in filling silences. Words are returned when they arrive but there is no effort to begin anything and when nothing comes the silence feels normal not empty.
This is not depression with labels or poetry with metaphors. This is just a chapter where nothing moves. Twenty five was supposed to be full of things. Now it is filled with questions. Where is this heading? What is the point? Who knows. Maybe something will shift again. Or maybe it will not. For now, it is what it is, a life that does not hurt but does not feel like living either.
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