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Go On.

The point beyond burnout feels like a void. A place where exhaustion is a way of being. Every muscle, every thought, every breath is heavy. All with fatigue that no sleep can cure. But one must go on. 

The world doesn't stop because you're tired.

Expectations, responsibilities—they keep spinning, even as you're standing still, hollowed out. They say you should take a break, that you need to rest. But there’s no time. There’s no space for it. One must go on, because stopping isn’t an option. Take rest but you must have all the answers after.

It’s gone, though. That spark, that drive, that sense of purpose—it vanished somewhere along the way. I don’t remember when or how. Maybe it slipped away in the night, lost between sleepless hours and endless tasks.

But I must believe it’s still there, somewhere. Faint, but not entirely out of reach. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but eventually, I will find it again. Slowly. Quietly. I don’t need your blazing eyes to guide me, just a flicker to keep going. Because even in this exhaustion, something small still remains, a reason to keep pushing forward. 

One must go on—but maybe, just maybe, not always this lost.

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