Nothing seems to work for me. I don’t remember the last time I closed my eyes and slept peacefully. I lie in bed at night staring into the darkness while my thoughts haunt me. They whisper sinister things to me. “Maybe you should end everything and be free,” they say.

I’m almost thirty but I have nothing to show for my time here on earth. I have no money. That’s because I don’t have a job. I know that in life you can’t have it all. Some people don’t have money but at least they have a partner who loves them. I don’t even have that.

My last relationship ended the moment I lost my job. Maybe he was worried that I would become his responsibility. And I find it strange because I wasn’t dependent on him. I am not the type to ask my man for stuff, you know. All I wanted was his love but the moment I crumbled, he disappeared and left me alone to figure out the pieces.

Anyway, this story isn’t about a man or my nonexistent love life. I have just gotten to a place where I am tired of everything.

I’ve applied for more jobs than I can count. I’ve been to interviews where they smile politely and tell me, “You will hear from us.” I wait and wait but I never hear from them.

Sometimes after an interview, I tell myself, “This one went well. I gave it my best and they seemed to like me. Something positive will come out of this.” Just like every other one, all I get is silence.

At this point, the rejections are beginning to feel personal. They make me feel as if life itself has decided I’m not worth a chance.

I’ve knocked on doors of people in high places. These are people I was sure could help me secure a job. I sat in their offices and pitched myself to them, for opportunities. They listen, nod sympathetically and say; “I will see what I can do.” Whether they actually try to do something or not, I have no idea. All I know is that they don’t get back to me.

Things became so hard for me that I started asking my parents for money. Even for sanitary pads. They shouldn’t be taking care of me at their age. They are old and tired. I should be the one taking care of them but here I am with nothing.

My mother used to encourage me. Whenever something didn’t work out she would tell me, “Don’t lose hope. Something will happen.” Well, it has gotten to a point where her hope is hanging on by a thread. These days whenever she gets the chance she tells me, “Go and look for something to do.” It’s not as if I am not out there getting rejected every day.

I know she is concerned but it only adds to the pressure I put on myself.

With everything going on, I get offers from men. First, they act like they care about me. They listen to my story and start saying things like, “I can help you.” I get my hopes up only to hear them ask, “But how far are you willing to go to get what you want?” They say it like it’s supposed to be a business transaction. A little help from their end in exchange for a little pleasure from my end.

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I’ve thought about it. I won’t lie. When you’re desperate, everything starts to look like a solution. But when the thought comes, something in me says, “How can I do this? This is not who I am.”

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And then the darker thoughts creep in, the ones I can’t say out loud, even to myself.  I’ve imagined it more times than I’d like to admit. I think about disappearing. Quietly. Without a trace. It would be easier, wouldn’t it? No more rejections. No more empty inboxes. No more watching my mother’s face fill with worry every time she looks at me.

But somehow, I hold on. I cry when I feel overwhelmed, and then I carry on. I lie in bed and tell myself, “Maybe tomorrow will be better.” I am yet to see it but I need to believe it. Lord knows what I would do to myself if I gave up hope. I don’t know how much more tears I have left in me.

— Sonia

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