It’s like running a marathon, except all the competitors are invisible. All the competitors are invisible and the finish line is infinite, so you just keep running even though how far ahead or behind everyone you are is impossible to tell. The finish line is nowhere to be seen, and you’re running five different races at the same time, so your feet feel like they’re slowly being ground away as if the pavement is sandpaper. The competitors are still gone so you don’t know whether you can slow to a jog, or if you should pump it to get ahead. And your lungs ache and burn with every breath. And the finish line just keeps itself hidden, if it even exists, so that you feel like the tiny drop of sweat rolling down your face is actually all of the blood pouring out of your system — but will it be worth it? Too many races, so much better competition, where does it even end? But you keep running because there’s no turning back, because even though the pain and doubt are horrible, you love it. You absolutely love it, and to let go of it, to forfeit the race, would shatter your soul into a million pieces.
(Hey, everyone! This is just a little metaphor/poem/rant thing about how I’ve been feeling lately with my head stuck in so many hobbies. Anyways, thanks so much for reading and talk to you all soon!)