Tell us about the last thing you got excited about.
Lately, I’ve been asking myself a strange but honest question:
When was the last time I felt genuinely excited about something?
Not just “looking forward to it” or “distracted by it” — I mean that full-body feeling of joy, anticipation, and energy.
And the truth is…
I can’t remember.
Maybe it’s the burnout I feel when I’m sleeping in the backseat of my car at work, five days a week at 4am, more than my bed, just to get parking.
Maybe it’s the way my routines flatten time and the days begin to melt together. I’m either mentally a day ahead or a day behind, but rarely in the present.
Maybe it’s grief, or fatigue, or the quiet sense that nothing really hits the way it used to.
None of the books, comics, games, or projects I have a backlog on excite me the same as:
- When I attended to my first anime convention in high school and cosplayed as the Aya Brea (Parasite Eve) version of Lightning Farron (Final Fantasy 13).
- When I hit a royal flush on a poker machine for my 21st birthday.
- When I overcame a video game boss from Elden Ring or Bloodborne after dying how many times and countless retries.
- Or when Borders used to be open and I would spend my time there, browsing and looking over what books were there.
- I drew something I genuinely like then criticize it for “not being good.”
- When I wrestled for 1 year, overcame a lot of challenges, because I was someone with no talent, no skill, no strength, and zero athletic ability, but I showed up anyways, even when the cards were stacked against me.
These are simple examples, they hold meaning for me, but not excitement.
Either way, I still create. I still write. I still publish these posts nearly every day — sometimes out of discipline, sometimes out of obsession, sometimes out of anger to do something, or just because I’m trying to not go completely numb.
Some days it already feels like I have gone emotionally numb.
But then something small happened.
And it reminded me what it feels like to be seen.
A person commented on one of my posts — specifically, the one titled:
Do You Ever Feel Like You’re Writing Into A Void?
That post came from a real place. It wasn’t crafted to get clicks. It was just a question I had… one that lingered in my head, one I felt compelled to ask out loud, instead of letting it fester in my head.
And someone responded.
Not just with a “like.” Not with silence.
They spoke back.
This person shared how they had been on WordPress for 11 years now — That they’ve felt and thought the same way — writing into the quiet, wondering if anyone ever truly connects through these posts or acknowledges the work we painstakingly share.
Their comment hit me harder than I expected. It was simple, short, and it felt honest.
Because it told me that the echo I sent out wasn’t lost into the void.
Something bounced back — not as noise, but as a voice.
A person.
Someone who understood.
For myself, after almost three months of writing, after 45+ posts, after wondering if I was just building an invisible archive of thoughts, even though I am, — this moment reminded me why I’m still doing this.
Maybe I still can’t name the last thing I felt excited about.
But I can name the last time I felt heard.
And for now, that means more than excitement.
So, thank you — to that one person who commented.
And to anyone else out there silently reading.
Even if you don’t say anything, maybe one day… you will.
And when you do, when you drop in to say, “hi”, I’ll be here.
Sincerely, The Archivist.
Two Manifestos + A Gift (For Fellow Archivists)
Here’s some more pieces of this convoluted puzzle I call my life, work, and thoughts down below, just to see what else is there, or if you resonated with what I’m writing.
Some Days I Don’t Want to Be Here — But Staying is My F#ck You to the System
I’m Afraid of Wasting My Potential — So I Learn Everything I Can, While I Can.
How I Reworked Old Art After a Long Break From Drawing
Brief Reflection:
You know what? After 4 months of blogging, publishing over 115 posts later, and this still holds true.
However, the difference being that, despite not feeling “excited,” I think we tend to overestimate how our energy fluctuates over time.
Maybe excitement is for kids who are still able to see the world through a lens of wonder.
As an adult, however, “excitement” might not be the best word to use when we really like something.
Maybe, as an adult myself, I could reframe this question a different way.
“Tell us about the last thing you were content with.”
This could allow us to be a little more lenient towards ourselves instead of casting stones at ourselves for not being “excited” in a long time.
Time changes us—we get older, our priorities and interests shift—so, let children bring the excitement and high energy into the world.
I’d rather be leveled and not show my version of excitement to just anyone and keep it on the down low.
Not everyone will match our energies, so let’s be forgiving of ourselves and enjoy our existence while we can.
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