I started the series on Addiction, and already I don't want to finish it. This is basically the story of my life, these past three or four years. I never finish what I start, and I am so sick of it. What is motivation? What is drive? Passion?
I don't know, maybe I was passionate about things once upon a time, but it seems to have all fizzled and faded away. So little excites me anymore. I don't remember the last time I've had that rush, that feeling that I've got to put everything I've got into an activity. That sense of wonder in life isn't there anymore. I feel so empty, a vessel in a perfect void.