@Purita: I don’t even know if I want your advice. Maybe I just need someone to make sense of where I am. I’m 28 and every day feels like a race I didn’t sign up for but can’t quit. I wake up to bills I can’t pay, dreams I can’t quite reach and a kind of exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix.
Last night I got caught in the rain after a long commute home. I passed by a café filled with people my age — laptops out, sipping their third cup of coffee. I wanted to believe I’d get there someday. But right now, it feels like I’m just running in place.
Sometimes I envy people who seem born with safety nets — families who can help with rent, friends with connections, lives that don’t require daily miracles to get by. So yeah, I’m probably not asking for advice. Maybe just perspective. Or maybe just to hear that it’s okay to be tired and still hopeful at the same time.
DJ: You said you’re tired — and I believe you. Poverty doesn’t just drain the wallet; it drains the spirit. My parents weren’t poor, but I chose to move to Cebu City and make it on my own. I’ve had my share of living from paycheck to paycheck. Maybe not to your extent, but I know how it feels to wake up with the same weight every day and still show up anyway. You are brave, even if you don’t always feel that way.
You said you’re afraid this might be all there is. I know that fear too. It creeps in when you’ve done everything right and life still won’t bend. But here’s what I’ve learned: just because you’re in the same place doesn’t mean you’re the same person.
You might still be renting the same small room, but now you know how to stretch your budget, cook better and manage your time. You’ve learned discipline — something you didn’t have when you first moved in with nothing but hope and a few sticks of adidas from the street corner.
You might still be in the same job, same desk, same routine — but you understand people better now. You handle criticism with grace. You don’t take things as personally. You’ve grown tougher, wiser, more strategic.
You might still face the same problems — family issues, debts, uncertainty— but you’ve stopped running away. You just want to be the kind of person who can handle them better. You’re learning to trust the process.
I wish growth always came with a new address or a promotion. But sometimes it happens quietly — in how you think, react and recover. You can look around and see nothing has changed, but deep down, you know you have. Every time you rise after falling, every time you show up when you’d rather quit, something in you transforms.
Surround yourself with people who talk about ideas and growth, not gossip or defeat. The right circle doesn’t just motivate — it reminds you who you’re becoming. And please, don’t give in to shortcuts or dishonesty, even when others seem to succeed faster. You’re building something that lasts. It’s slower, yes — but solid. Peace of mind is worth the wait.
Talk to God about what you’re going through. This saved me from foolish choices when I was younger. Faith isn’t pretending you’re fine — it’s saying, “I’m tired, but I trust there’s still purpose in this.” Sometimes the most practical thing you can do is pray, breathe and take one more step.
I doubted many times if I could be where I am today and I’m grateful I kept on. One day, you’ll look back and realize the seasons that felt like slow motion were actually preparing you for your next breakthrough.
But promise me this — you will never, ever give up. Stay in touch.