13/06/2026
The Weight of the Smile
Three years. Three years of choosing to show up with a smile, carrying a hope I wasn’t even sure I had left, while quietly fighting a battle that has completely drained my mind, my soul, and my spirit.
While the world saw dedication and passion, the reality was a suffocating cycle of financial strain, frustration, and a deep, heavy depression. I have watched others move forward seamlessly, while I stayed behind—waiting patiently, holding onto my self-esteem, and trying so hard to trust the process. But tonight, as my body finally gives out to fever and sickness, the emotional walls have completely collapsed.
The sheer weight of these past three years has finally caught up to me. I feel completely drowned by the very things I once called my purpose. It is a agonizing feeling to realize you have been turned down by the people you trusted most, leaving you feeling like a ghost in your own life—moving purely on survival instinct rather than actual life. I want to believe in purpose. I want to believe in a narrative that makes sense of all this pain. But right now, in the dark, I am just so incredibly tired, and I don’t know how much longer I can pretend that I am okay. Because I'm not.
