You know that feeling? When your eyes open, but your soul still feels heavy? Like you're dragging your body through the day, pretending everything’s okay when deep down, you're tired. Not sleepy tired. Just... tired. Of the hustle. Of the cycle. Of the silence that follows questions like: “What am I really doing with my life?”
Some days, I look in the mirror and ask, “Is this all there is?” Wake. Work. Worry. Sleep. Repeat. It's like being on a treadmill moving fast, yet going nowhere.
And yet... I still show up. I still go
The truth is, I don’t have all the answers. I don’t even think I’m close. But I’ve realized something about life, it doesn’t always shout your purpose at you. Sometimes, it whispers it in the quiet moments. In the pain. In the little victories. In the smile you give a stranger even when your heart is breaking. In choosing to stand up again even after everything inside you wants to quit.
Yes, people die. People leave. You lose friends, lose direction, even lose pieces of yourself along the way. But once in a while, something magical happens. You hear a laugh that reminds you of joy. You help someone and suddenly feel useful. You survive something you thought would break you and that becomes your reason.
My purpose? I think it’s to live, truly live. To feel. To give. To make someone else’s day easier, even when mine feels hard. And maybe that’s enough.
What keeps me going? The hope that one day, I’ll look back and be proud that I didn’t give up. That I chose to believe that my life mattered, even if the world didn’t always see it.
So yes, I wake up. I show up. I hustle. I smile, not because life is easy, but because I've chosen to keep going anyway.
And maybe... just maybe... that’s what purpose really is.
Thanks for stopping by to read, Until next time. Bye!
Image is Ai generated
