I can’t even find the motivation for anything today.

Not in a dramatic way. Not in a “rock bottom” way. Just in that dull, exhausting way where nothing holds long enough to finish. I’ve started five different blog posts and abandoned all of them mid-thought. I’ve opened design files, moved things around, stared at the screen, then closed them without saving. I’ve opened games I usually enjoy, scrolled through menus, and shut them down like the act of playing required more energy than I have.

Nothing feels worth the effort it takes to stay engaged.

It’s not boredom. It’s not indecision. It’s fatigue on a deeper level. The kind where even things you love feel like obligations instead of escapes. Where starting feels possible, but continuing feels impossible.

That’s the part that messes with my head.

Because I want to finish things. I want momentum. I want to feel capable of following through without my brain pulling the emergency brake every time I get a few steps in. Instead, I’m stuck in this loop of half-starts and quiet frustration, watching the day slip by while I feel powerless to grab onto it.

And layered under all of that is something heavier.

I’m so tired of losing things.

Sometimes it’s life. The unforeseeable stuff. The losses you can’t plan for or protect yourself from. The kind that just happens and leaves you standing there trying to figure out how everything shifted so fast.

But sometimes it’s me.

My own brain. My own patterns. My own actions that feel like they’re working against me instead of for me. Motivation disappears. Focus fractures. Energy evaporates. And I’m left wondering how much of this damage is external and how much is self-inflicted, even when I know it’s not that simple.

That’s what makes it so exhausting.

You start to feel like you can’t trust anything to stay intact. Not progress. Not habits. Not even the things that once felt grounding. Everything feels temporary. Fragile. Easy to lose.

Today isn’t about giving up. It’s about being worn down.

It’s about the quiet kind of tired that doesn’t announce itself loudly enough for people to notice. The kind that doesn’t look like failure, but feels like erosion. One unfinished thing at a time.

I don’t have a clean ending for this. No lesson. No turnaround moment where motivation suddenly returns and everything clicks into place.

Today is just one of those days where surviving looks like starting things and letting them go, not because I don’t care, but because I don’t have the capacity to carry them to the end.

And maybe that has to be enough for now.

Because even when it feels like I’m losing to my own mind, I’m still here. Still trying. Still opening files. Still starting sentences.

Even unfinished, that counts for something.