At times I repress from writing, I find it sorrowful since I’ve yet found a happy story to write about; yes I am alive, still breathing, healthy, I have a job, clothes on my back, food on my plate and a roof above my head. No matter how difficult these things are to retain, I am grateful for them. 

Yet, I find myself in a forever tripping mode and even when I finally manage to fall, rather than falling forwards, it feels like I seem to tilt more backwards. Struggling to find happiness and gratitude in the blessings I currently have no matter how little these seems to me due to the struggle and both physical, mental exhaustion. 

For I find myself tired of living in the sidelines watching everyone around me reach their happy ending or at completion of the marathon called life; applauding for them although sincere, yet painful to be left behind. 

I guess I yearn to reach a point we’re struggling, asking for help and accepting charity just for the sake of my child is a thing of the past; single parenting has left me broken, empty, joyless, bitter, spiritually and emotionally depleted, filled with no healthy coping mechanisms. 

Loving another human being so much means so much sacrifice beyond what I could have ever envisioned; the meaning of it takes a village has never rung so true, yet I’m a cast away, ostracized from a village. Yearning for one from afar, unreachable. 

On forever tripping mode I find myself, unable to stand on stable grounds despite my efforts to not allow my current circumstances define me, swallow me whole. I remind myself of the strength it took to get here and the strength it takes to daily remain afloat, yet here I remain unbalanced fighting to break out of if this simulation called life, stuck on tripping mode.