Each morning feels like a battlefield, with my anxiety and depression waging war against my will to keep going. The weight of their presence is suffocating, but I push through, determined to not let them win.
I wake up early, before the sun has even begun to rise, and drag myself out of bed. It's another day of fighting against the demons that haunt me, another day of pretending that everything is okay when it feels like my world is crumbling beneath my feet.
My relatives' judgment hangs heavy over me, a constant reminder of my perceived failures. They don't understand the financial constraints that prevented me from pursuing college, the dreams that were shattered before they had a chance to take flight. To them, I'm just another disappointment, another wasted opportunity.
But I refuse to let their words define me. Instead, I throw myself into my work, determined to prove that I am capable, that I am worthy of respect and admiration. Each day, I push myself to be the breadwinner, to provide for myself and for those who depend on me.
It's not easy. There are days when the weight of it all threatens to crush me, when the facade I've built starts to crack under the pressure. But I plaster on a smile, force a laugh, and pretend that everything is fine. It's exhausting, pretending to be someone I'm not, but it's the only way I know how to keep going.
And so, I soldier on, fighting against the darkness that threatens to consume me, clinging to the hope that one day, the sun will shine again, and I'll emerge from the shadows stronger than ever before.
