Mystery Girl's Diaries

It’s been months. Not just four months of trying, it feels like forever, honestly. I’ve been fighting, applying, hoping, breaking down, and forcing myself to get up again. And for what? Nothing seems to work out the way I planned. Nothing feels right. I moved to the city after fighting with my family, thinking maybe, just maybe... A change of place could bring a change in life. But here I am. Exhausted. Burned out. Hating every second of it. Staying at home was hell. Leaving home is a different kind of hell. And my relationship is a Hell I keep making decisions that seem smart at first and turn out to be stupid later. I keep pushing myself to apply for jobs, to stay strong, to keep moving forward because getting a job is important, it's not even a choice anymore, it’s survival. And yet, rejection after rejection was killing me. I don’t just feel tired. I feel ugly. I feel unwanted. I feel invisible. There is no place that feels like "home" to me right now. No corner where...

Some days, I open my inbox hoping for an interview call. Most days, I just see, “Thank you for applying, but…” and then I close it like nothing happened. But it did. Every rejection feels like a tiny punch. I’ve been applying to jobs non-stop. Clinical roles, data stuff, writing jobs anything that makes sense. And still… nothing works. It’s not like I’m sitting idle either. I’ve done courses, assessments, and all that. Still, I feel like I’m stuck in the same place. Sometimes, I doubt everything. Did I choose the wrong path? Am I too late? Is something wrong with me? Then other times, I remind myself.....No, I’m trying. I’m doing my part. It’s just... slow. It’s funny how people say, “Don’t give up.” Like okay, but what if I’m tired of not giving up? No one talks about how exhausting “not giving up” actually is. I’m tired. Mentally, emotionally, soul-level tired. No amount of sleep or motivational quotes is helping anymore. Being from a middle-class family, a stable job means more than...

Hmmm… yeah, tomorrow, I turn 24. A 5-years-younger me… I don’t know if she’d be proud of me. I know I went through a lot, but… she had more dreams. She thought by 24 she’d be settled in her career, and then by 24 or 25 she’d get married, and by 26 she’d have kids… After that, maybe open her own boutique or some creative venture where she’d be happy. But not a single thing went as she imagined. She went through so many things she never expected. And after knowing everything, maybe she would be proud. But I don’t know… I’m not where I wanted to be. I don’t think she will be happy. I don’t even know if I’m happy. Maybe… I’m just disappointed in myself. I don’t even have a job. I haven’t earned anything. I haven’t achieved anything I dreamed of. I expect a lot from myself… and maybe that’s why it hurts more. Maybe I’m just really disappointed. But still… I know what I want now—and what I deserve. (I wish.) Maybe… Adjusting is adulting. Learning that life doesn’t always go as pl...