Everything Feels Stuck

I don’t know where to begin, but tonight I feel like writing… not because I have the answers, but because I’m tired of carrying the weight of all the unanswered questions.

Lately, it feels like I’m just… stuck. In life. In my career. In my thoughts. And in the silence that follows when people ask, “How’s everything going?”

Because, honestly, I don’t know what to say anymore.

People I once started out with, classmates, colleagues, juniors, they all seem to be moving ahead. Better jobs, clearer goals, new countries, new relationships, settled lives. And here I am… watching, wondering, wishing, but mostly, doubting myself. Doubting whether there’s still time. Whether something meaningful is still waiting for me. Whether I’ll ever feel truly alive again.

There are days I wake up with a strange kind of heaviness. Not physical, but emotional. Like I’m dragging my soul around. Smiling on the outside, managing tasks, meeting deadlines, responding politely, but inside, I feel like I’m losing the person I once was. The one who used to dream, laugh freely, believe in magic. The one who hoped.

I don’t even know what’s hurting the most anymore, the comparison, the loneliness, or the constant question: “Will anything ever change?”

Maybe it’s the fatigue of trying so hard and still standing at the same place. Or maybe it’s the chaos that life throws at me every time I think I’ve found some balance. One thing goes wrong, and suddenly everything feels wrong. And the worst part? No one really sees it.

Because how do you explain that you’re hurting when your life looks “normal” from the outside?

It’s strange, isn’t it? How we become masters of pretending. Of smiling through pain. Of saying, “I’m fine” when all we want to scream is, “No, I’m not fine. I feel lost, I feel tired, I feel like giving up.”

But tonight, I won’t pretend. Tonight, I’m admitting it, I’m not okay. And maybe, that’s okay.

Because this isn’t weakness. This is me being honest. Raw. Human.

I don’t know what the next step is. I don’t have a masterplan. But I do know this, I don’t want to give up on myself yet. Not when I’ve come this far. Not when something inside me still believes in light, even if I can’t see it right now.

So here’s a promise I make to myself, quietly, without any pressure or timeline, I’ll keep showing up.

Even if it’s just dragging myself out of bed.

Even if it’s writing a diary when my thoughts are too loud.

Even if it’s choosing to believe, just for one more day, that things can change.

Because maybe, just maybe, this stuck phase isn’t the end, it’s the silence before something new begins.

And when that something does begin, I want to be there, ready, breathing, and alive.

Until then, I’ll write. I’ll feel. I’ll fight.

Not because I have to.

But because I still matter. My story still matters.