Serendipity

When there isn’t much hope, what’s left is desperation. You cling onto everything and anything that gives you the strength to continue. When all odds are against you, the choices you have become quite clear, yet at the same time, these choices feel like a blade being held to your neck. Have you ever felt that? A blade being held to your neck… I remember that day so vividly.

I was at a motel for the day, exhausted from traveling and working. I needed a place to sleep before heading back home. I woke up midday to loud knocking at my door. Dazed and disoriented, I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. When I opened the door, two men pushed through, and one of them held a blade to my neck. They asked me something, but in that moment, I couldn’t hear anything—just silence in my head. I stood there, staring at them blankly.

What struck me most was that I wasn’t scared. I should have been, but instead, I felt this eerie calm. It was as though I had already accepted whatever was about to happen. Maybe that’s what scared me the most—how quickly I came to terms with the situation. There was no fight, no flight—just stillness. I met their eyes, unwavering, and something in that silence unsettled them. They backed away slowly, stepping out of the door. I didn’t say a word. I closed the door behind them and went back to bed, falling into a strange sleep.

When I woke up later, the gravity of what had just happened washed over me. I started to question myself—why wasn’t I afraid? Shouldn’t I have done something? Maybe I realized then that I had no control in that moment, and for the first time, I was completely at the mercy of others. Life and death—things we think about in abstract terms—had suddenly become all too real.

And yet, even after that, what lingered with me wasn’t the fear of dying—it was the fear of never being in control of my own life again. From that day forward, even as life took things from me that I held dear, I fought to hold onto whatever I could. I grabbed at any shred of control left, desperate to protect the parts of life I could still claim as mine.

That day wasn’t the first time life showed its cruelty, nor would it be the last. Life is cruel, and I understood that very early on. I’ve seen sides of life that many never will. The duality I’ve witnessed—how light and darkness coexist—has left me both cynical and oddly hopeful. In a way, the cruelty I’ve seen has shown me how much I can endure, and it gives me hope that someone like me, someone who has walked that line, can reach out and help those who need it most.

Now, I’m wary of what exists, but I have control over who I give my heart to. For everything life has taken from me, I still hold onto hope. I haven’t given up, and I never will.

I relive that experience every day—the opening of the motel door, the blade pressed against my neck, the look in their eyes as I stared back at them, and their retreat. I think about it because, for once in my life, it wasn’t about life and death. Maybe they saw that in my eyes. I don’t know, but since that day, I try my best to give to those in need because I understand all too well what it’s like to lose.