I’m standing in a store, my eyes catch a guitar. Lacquered wood, strings untouched by anyone’s hands yet. Used to be, I’d pull it off the shelf right away, guess its weight, picture myself playing — even if I didn’t know a single song properly.

I was chasing the moment. Like buying a few future evenings all at once.

Now I just note: nice guitar, pleasant wood color, it sits well on the stand even without touching it. No “what if after all?” No inner urge to grab it and take it home. Not the slightest impulse to start another hobby.

Seems like nothing dramatic happened. Back then, there was definitely a rush: want to learn guitar — you try; drawing — you grab pencils; Spanish — you sign up for a course. Even if you quit after a month, as long as the “want” was alive — it was all justified.

It felt like the more new things I learned, the wider I became. You pick up something important from every new start.

But then the base shifted.

Like someone switched off a little light inside my head — the one that fires up your blood just from the word “new.” Now it’s just another item or course among hundreds. Pretty? Sure. But no feeling of a door you have to open for your future self.

It’s not laziness. Not tiredness from the world of skills. More like silence after a long search: no need to prove to yourself or anyone else that you’re moving forward in every direction at once.

A pause instead of a push.

I remember: how many times did I start and quit things for no reason? Bought brushes or a second instrument just to catch that feeling of a start — believed in my future self so easily, as if the finish was guaranteed by just wanting to try.

Now I know the price of those plans in advance. Experience works like a shield against the next cycle: bought — abandoned; started — forgotten in three weeks; a new notebook for Japanese left blank after the first page.

I see the end of any beginning before I even start.

I wonder: maybe this is losing something important? Dulling curiosity… Getting drier? Or maybe — finally stopped collecting other people’s life scripts like sticker albums?

Maybe I’ve reached a state of “enough” and don’t fear missing the chance to become someone else?

And weirdly: with this feeling comes freedom. For the first time, I can walk past a showcase full of beautiful chances and know — I don’t have to grab every one just to feel like I’m moving.

I can dive deeper into what I already have instead of chasing new things just for the sake of change.

But then again, some people keep lighting up with new hobbies their whole lives; their engine never shuts off. Is their chemistry just different? Or do they still hold hope for a radical upgrade?

Or maybe the energy didn’t go anywhere… It just flows inside familiar paths now? Maybe it’s more important to finish what’s started than to open new doors just to check a box?

What’s happening with this energy inside me right now?