And that hope was slipping through the doors of idleness and inability,slowly accumulating

“ And that hope was slipping through the doors of Idleness and Inability. Slowly accumulating in the silent air we breathe.”

I know that you felt that moment, that crushing feeling of helplessness. Where the world seems to never offer you a chance to breathe. And even when you're tired and you lie awake at night unable to sleep, as if the claws of exhaustion constantly chases you even in your dreams.

A moment to breathe, A moment to be honest, A moment where I'm overflowing with tears of possibilities laid before me contrary to what the world insists as impossible, foolish, unconventional.

Responsibility is a necessity for me, unlike the usual positive connotation of this word, it is my damnation I dearly hold close. Familiarly what rendered me incapable to be honest with myself, to always yearn for the things I love out of sight only to refuse to grasp it when given the chance.

I have felt this for as long as I can remember. In my childhood I was in the body of a child with the mind of an adult, completely missing out with the present. I strived for achievement, to be recognized, and each step of glory seems like one foot forward to a cliff. Fascinatingly, I've been wired through my circumstances and experiences to crave that edge. As if I was between life and death neither alive nor dead. The same notion can be applied with how I live my life. I was a ghost, never completely existing yet the complexity in me craving to end that never-ending feeling.

The world will not stop for me, endlessly life itself seems to be slipping through my fingers all the time. Never ending exhaustion with no pause.

“ If I never existed, I can't disappear either”

Yu miri (Tokyo Ueno Station)

Each day living felt like… I am watching somebody else’s life. A bystander, A loner, A people -pleaser. A nobody, trying to be everybody. In recent years building towards my adulthood away from my childhood, feels like time was on reverse. I am growing to be more rebellious towards myself, the strict values and manner of self constraint seems to disperse itself through the silver lining of time

It's fascinating how complex human beings can be, how can one rebel from oneself?

There is no one to blame as I navigated my womanhood alone, slowly tearing the traditional notion of what it means to be a girl then to be a woman. If no one taught me anything I allowed experience and curiosity to lead me instead. Those two stages were difficult: unlearning cultural norms took a lot of experimentation of different beliefs, countless unfinished books, moments of helplessness of trying to make a difference, to share that difference, and not allow anyone to break my spirit.

Last Year, I joined a student organization in my school. I lead with the fever to make a change, and to give foundation to girls like me.

However one thing led to another, our adviser leading our organization expected more than we can give, every expectation of perfection suffocated and soured the bond we have and our purpose, And all that fell to me. All the pressure to continue was because of my responsibility to the people who believed in me. Even though behind closed doors, I knew I was dying inside. After each day of committing from 8 am -6pm for organization left me to disconnect with my original purpose corrupted by the same environment I aspire to change. There was no support coming from the person that handled us.

One scandalous issue that was hanging by an edge to be exposed and tolerated by the top became a toxic weapon for everyone to spite each other. I watched all the people who had the same passion as me recline to complacency to survive. I watched the people I was holding out for, has changed.

Last December I submitted a resignation letter from the organization. Was it irresponsible? Was it reckless? A word that I know never showed in my actions: months I lay awake at night juggling schoolwork, organizational responsibilities, student complaints, and handling personal issues. Where all who I was disappeared for the past 6 months. It's confusing how I know I was doing things for my cause and yet it felt constraining.

I stood there over explaining, rationalizing, appeasing.And soon found myself changing too. Completely dishonest with myself.

I was despondent that I choose to close my doors to anyone for 3 weeks. I idled by watching movies, swiping content one after the other, feeling guilty of my inability to stop. Recently, I began to find myself again. While sorting through my photos, I came across a screenshot I had taken of the World Pulse page and began exploring the stories that shaped it. I didn’t realize that even in the moments I believed I was a failure, I was still hoping.

That hope was slipping quietly through the doors of idleness and inability, slowly gathering in the silent air I continued to breathe.

Nowadays, Become gentle to myself. And the endless confusion came to a pause on what I should do with my days as the new year commenced.

Sometimes, people like me, those wired to feel guilt even in moments of peace, struggle to believe we are worthy of rest, of breathing, of creating spaces rooted in love and self-care. In silence, we mistake stillness for laziness and see no escape from the constant cycle of exhaustion. Yet even there, hope exists—fragile, quiet, and alive within our vulnerability.

We may lose strength while searching for purpose, but it is in these moments that our hopes and dreams begin to replenish. In melancholy, we prepare ourselves for redemption. And when you find yourself once again sitting idly with your phone, simply trying to breathe, remember this: it is in slowing down that the world becomes clearer. It is there that we refocus on what truly matters to us.