“I Am Going Through the Worst Days of My Life – And I’m Still Hoping”
This is, perhaps, the hardest piece I’ve ever written. Not because I don’t know what to say – but because every word I type feels like stripping away the last bits of pride I’ve been clinging to.
I’m not particularly good at asking for help. I’ve always been the sort of person who, even when falling apart, would smile and say, “I’m alright.” But the truth is, I’m not alright. Not even close.
Right now, I’m in a place where survival has become a daily puzzle – how to eat with just a few coins left, how to keep the roof over my head another night, how to stay connected to the world when the phone bill is overdue and Wi-Fi is a luxury. I live alone, far from family, with no stable income, no safety net, and fewer options with each passing day.
Once upon a time, I had dreams – many of them. I believed in hard work, believed that if I kept going, kept trying, I’d be alright. But no one tells you that sometimes, trying isn’t enough. Not because you’re not good enough – but because the world can be cold, fast, and unforgiving. And if you slip just once, it takes everything from you.
At night, I lie awake listening to the sound of my stomach, or the hum of the street outside, wondering how many more days I can go on like this. I’ve felt hopeless. I’ve felt invisible. I’ve wondered what’s the point of holding on.
But somehow, despite everything, a small voice inside me keeps whispering:
“You’ve made it this far. Don’t stop now.”
I’m writing this not to beg, not to play the victim – but because I need to say it out loud: I’m tired. I’m struggling. But I still want to live.
I still want to believe that the world holds kindness. That there are people out there who still listen, still care, still feel.
Maybe you’re one of them. Maybe you’ve stumbled across this post in the middle of your own storm. If so – I see you. I hear you. And I want you to know: you are not alone. Somewhere across the screen, there’s me – holding on with all I’ve got, and hoping that’s enough.
The world is harsh, yes. But even the smallest act of empathy can cut through the darkness like light through a keyhole.
If you’ve read this far – thank you. That alone means more than I can put into words.
Maybe this is my lowest point – or maybe it’s the place I’ll rise from. I truly don’t know. But I want to believe in second chances. I want to believe in people.
And maybe, just maybe, this is how that belief begins again.
A human being, quietly holding on, and still believing in better days.