Struggling along with this. Seems to be the key lesson of this part of my story. Struggle to reach a place that you have no idea of any returns await you for your struggles. I’ve reached it many times, and reaped no rewards. Every time it gets a little more disheartening. Harder to start another trek again. I started another one though. I’m close to the end of it now. Just got one last push to the top of the mountain. I guess if nothing else, I’ll at least be able to see what the top of the mountain is like. That is rewarding enough, though it would be nice to get something else for all my struggles. They say you can’t ask for it, it’ll come to you. I say that’s nice and all but can I at least get a timeline of when it will come to me because this is all becoming too tiring. Ehh I can keep going though. Exhaustion never stopped me from doing what I had to do. Won’t start now either. I only go up, I don’t look down anymore.
The top of the mountain—it’s a concept that’s kept me going, even when the path has been steep and unrelenting. It’s not about the rewards, I tell myself. It’s about the climb, the effort, the persistence to keep going when the odds feel stacked against you. But that’s easier said than believed. There are moments when I want to shout at the universe and ask, “What’s the point of all this if nothing comes of it?” Yet even in those moments, I keep moving. Because maybe, just maybe, the struggle itself is the reward.
I’ve realized that the journey changes you, whether you like it or not. Every time I’ve struggled and seen no immediate payoff, something inside me has shifted. I’ve grown tougher, more patient, more resilient. The mountain doesn’t give you what you want—it gives you what you need. It forces you to confront who you are when the odds seem unfair, when the reward feels nonexistent. And maybe that’s the lesson. Maybe the mountain is less about the summit and more about who you become as you climb it.
Even so, the exhaustion is real. The weight of uncertainty bears down heavier with every step, but I’ve learned to carry it. To use it as fuel instead of letting it hold me back. The truth is, I’m too far in to stop now. I’ve invested too much, sacrificed too much, to turn around and walk back down. I don’t even know how to look down anymore. All I see is the next step, the next push upward. That’s the only direction I know.
If there’s no timeline, no guarantee of what awaits me at the top, so be it. I’ll keep climbing anyway. Not because I expect something, but because I refuse to let the climb break me. Because no matter how tired I get, no matter how disheartening it feels, I know one thing: I’m still moving. And as long as I’m moving, I’m winning. The summit will come, and when it does, I’ll be ready—not because I waited for it, but because I earned it.
