Getting things done is never easy; especially when there’s nothing left to chase.
Every year, I make the same promise to myself:
hit my goals, no excuses.
And somehow, I do.
The problem?
I hit them early.

So by the time I reach the final months of the year, I’m stuck in this strange space…
Not behind, not ahead, just suspended.
Two or three months of nothingness. Two or three months of waking up and asking myself:
“Now what?”

Do I start next year’s goals early?
Do I rest?
Do I pretend I’m busy so I don’t feel useless?
I genuinely don’t know.

Lately, I’ve felt unmotivated in a way that scares me.
Everything I do looks off; unfinished, imperfect, almost like someone else made it.
And behind that silence sits fear;
Fear of failing.
Fear of proving people right.
Fear of slowing down and discovering I don’t know how to start again.
Fear that idleness might shape me into someone I don’t want to become.

I can’t sit still just because I’ve “done enough.”
But starting again feels heavier than I expected.
Even routine work is hard to accomplish.

Right now, I’m searching for a reason;
a spark,
a shift,
a reminder that the year isn’t over and neither am I.
Something small enough to pick up, but meaningful enough to carry me through the days.

Maybe that’s all any of us really need: not a grand new goal, not a life overhaul, just a small spark to keep us working, thinking, breathing and sane until the end.