The reflection on the daily fight for survival, not just physically, but mentally, grappling with the weight of expectations and the suffocating feeling of pretending to be okay.


Dear Diary,

I know I've been away for some time. It’s actually hard fighting against the world, but even harder when you have to fight for your own life. Every day feels like a battle, one I’m not sure I’m equipped to win. The weight of expectations, the pressure to keep moving, to keep smiling, all while trying not to break. Sometimes, I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of demands, gasping for air while pretending everything is fine.

The struggles of having to keep oneself alive go beyond the physical. It’s the mental war that no one sees, the quiet desperation behind every carefully constructed facade. I’m trying so hard not to choke on life itself, to not let it swallow me whole. Some days, I can barely breathe beneath the weight of it all, and yet I keep going, because what other choice is there? The world doesn’t stop spinning because I feel like I’m falling apart.

People often talk about survival as if it’s just about getting through the day, but it’s so much more. It’s about the emotional stamina it takes to pretend, to smile when your heart is heavy, to engage when all you want is to retreat. It’s exhausting, diary, it's exhausting to fight for myself in a world that constantly pushes back, in a life that feels overwhelming at times. And the worst part? No one seems to notice the struggle beneath the surface.

I wonder if anyone truly understands how hard it is just to exist some days, to wake up and face the world when everything inside me feels like it’s crumbling. It’s not that I don’t want to live—I do—but there are moments when living feels like a fight I’m barely winning. The energy it takes to hold on, to keep myself from slipping into that dark place where giving up seems like the only option, is draining me.

But here I am, writing again, hoping these words will help me make sense of the chaos within. Maybe, in these pages, I can find the strength I need to keep fighting, to keep breathing. For now, I’ll take it one day at a time, hoping that each breath becomes a little lighter, and that the fight for my life, my peace, won’t always feel like an endless war.