Serendipity

Don’t try so hard for what isn’t yours.

This has been the hardest lesson for me to learn. Now, in my 30s, I see the cynicism that often creeps in when people talk about life. I used to believe that at the end of the road, there would be something beautiful waiting, something that would finally fulfill the child in me. But all that belief did was lead me to false hope—hope that things would somehow be different. That if I kept pushing, if I kept being the best version of myself, maybe I would end up with more than I had when I first started.

It sounds skeptical, I know. I talk so much about positivity, and some days it’s easier to embrace than others. There are moments when I can look at my life and say, “This is better than where I was.” But the truth is, not every day feels that way. This is what it means to be human: to be shattered, to feel lost, to question your own choices. None of it is anyone else’s fault but mine. And lately, I’ve started to lose faith in myself.

People tell me to focus on the good around me—all the things I’ve achieved, the lives I’ve touched. But when I do, it feels like I’m the only one left behind, watching others enjoy the beautiful things I worked so hard to hold together. They get to smile at the things that once made me smile. I’ve spent years trying my best, only to realize why my own smile has faded. It’s hard not to think, “I wish I hadn’t tried so hard.”

Today, I’m sharing the rawest version of myself—the version that lives inside my head 100% of the time. The positivity you see in my words, the talk about all the great things in life, is a mask I wear in hopes of finding happiness someday. I teach others because, deep down, I’m trying to teach myself.