Personal Essay no motivation

Halle Hau

Tenafly High School Personal Essay

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP… The sound of an emergency alarm blares throughout my room, a sound that would cause most people to start up in panic. But I have grown numb to the alarm’s urgent cries, and I simply shut my eyes tighter, trying to ignore my imminent doom. The alarm screeches on, forming an endless pulse that repeats over and over again, each sound bringing me one blare closer to restarting the infinite cycle of what has become my life. Then, just as the clock strikes 8:05, I yank myself from my bed and make the treacherous three-step commute to my desk, shut off my phone alarm, and frantically search for the link for my first period class, hoping that my sleep-fogged brain manages to select the correct one. There I sit staring at my computer screen, struggling to focus on my teacher’s words with the wonders of YouTube and Instagram available at my fingertips. Between periods, I immediately rush out of my room to pet my dog or just peer outside the window, but remain ever aware of the four-minute passing time quickly trickling away. I endure this pitiful process over and over again until it is finally 1:04, and I slam my laptop shut. Freedom at last... but not for long. Sure, I might eat lunch, walk my dog, or play the piano, but all these things are simply part of the cycle. In the end I’ll always have to return. There’s no escaping its grasp. Wake up. Work. Sleep. Repeat.

How did my life come to this? When school had first shut down last March, I was elated. No more having to wake up early and spend seven hours a day at school, only then to be burdened with hours of homework and studying. That year, I had been struggling with the increased workload, constantly shoving facts about the French Revolution or Shakespearean plays into my brain that would be spewed out the second after they were used. I found myself constantly on the verge of tears as I crumbled under the pressure of pop in-class essays, group math assignments, and imminent history exams. As each day passed by, I began to ponder the meaning of my efforts. What was the point of working so hard, if I gained so little joy or failed to learn anything from it? My life was looped in an endless cycle, like a vortex spinning out of control, trapping me in its inescapable pull.

The first few weeks working from home felt like paradise. With the shorter days and lack of conventional in-class exams, I was at last free from the stress and pain that had hindered my happiness for so long. I had more freedom to do as I pleased, with more time to spend with my family and take up new hobbies. But I soon realized something. While basking in the glory of my new stress-free life, I neglected to notice that my motivation was slipping through my fingers. On top of that, instead of the mere two-week grace period I expected to have, the entire world had transformed before my eyes, leaving barren streets and closed doors in the shops of the once bustling town. A sheet of gray seemed to shade my view, leaving me face-toface with an uncertain future, each day at home blurring into one, with no visible escape. Soon, I found school to be just as jarring as before. What was the point of paying attention if no one would notice whether or not I was? Why should I study if I could use my notes on all my exams? What was the use in waking up early if my “classroom” was in the same room as my bed? Why did I still have to learn as before, with the world I’d known before permanently faded from view, living in fear of this unknown virus that could strike those I loved and many others around the world? As each day passed, my desire to put effort into my work crumbled to dust, leaving me questioning my purpose. In destroying the version of school that had previously consumed my entire life, another one simply emerged, the cycle again prospering through it all.

Now here I am in my junior year, still attending school from home, with a more conventional school schedule and workload, yet I have even less motivation to work hard in school. I constantly procrastinate on my work, always rushing to finish assignments at the last minute. Even on days with less homework, I still struggle to complete it on time. No matter how hard I try to finish earlier, I always find myself aimlessly browsing the internet or lying around doing nothing, wallowing in the pile of work that is sitting before me, as my brain has learned only to equate schoolwork with productivity, refusing to let me enjoy myself until it’s done. For each minute I stray from my work, more and more guilt begins to squirm in my gut and fill my conscience. You could be doing so much right now. Why are you wasting so much time? No breaks until the work is done. But is it ever done? What is life without work? Even on the weekends or holiday breaks, I feel restless, as if I am obligated to do something “productive” with myself. I can never take my mind off the imminent return of school, when I will be thrown back into the cage

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of my responsibilities. So here I am, trapped in a neverending battle between constantly needing to work, as I have been conditioned to my whole life, and my crippling lack of motivation actually to get anything done.

Why does our society always call for perfection, when reaching such an ideal is impossible? Why can’t we simply neglect our work once in a while, take the 0 on an assignment every so often? We should be able to skip school to frolic in the great outdoors. Sleep in for as long as we want. Read books. Watch TV shows. Make art. Help others. Take time to learn more about ourselves and those we love. Experience all this joy without the looming expectations of society, work, or school weighing down on us, free from detrimental repercussions. Just for one day, I wish I could live this freely, without an ounce of guilt for experiencing joy I am worthy of having. Even in times of solace, I always fear the passage of time getting the better of me, forcing me to return to my life of constant work, that I don’t stop to actually enjoy the moments I get.

I wish I could say I have learned to overcome my struggles. Unfortunately, I have still not found the distinction between working hard and overworking myself. I am barely managing to finish this essay on time. But through this all, I am somehow still standing. I somehow manage to complete my work, despite my timing being rather questionable. I somehow am still able to find little specks of joy in each day I endure. And just that alone gives me hope. Hope that we can one day escape this cycle, and be more open to allowing people to enjoy their lives, instead of forcing everyone into a repetitive, jarring lifestyle. May we all strive for joy, not just mere productivity? May we all stop punishing ourselves for failing to conform once in a while? Or is this cycle neverending, keeping our society afloat but destroying those who inhabit it?

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