This Isn’t One of Those Pretty Posts

I’m tired.

That’s the truth.

And I’m not here to polish it or package it into something motivational today.

I’ve been trying.

I’ve been applying to jobs—I’m over 44 deep right now.

And most of them haven’t even responded.

The ones that did?

Treated me like I was bothering them just for following up. Like I was doing too much for simply giving a damn about my own survival.

I’ve been trying to build a business. Trying to monetize my creativity. Trying to do the right thing. Trying to get ahead.

And all I keep hearing about is…

Money.

Money this. Money that.

Courses. Coaching. Ads. Promotions. Upgrades.

Meanwhile, I’ve got people calling me for treatment bills I thought my insurance covered months ago.

And now they’re demanding money I don’t have, for things I didn’t even know I still owed.

I want to scream.

I’m Not Just Tired—I’m Angry

It’s not just me.

My boyfriend is working two jobs.

Still being treated like he’s disposable.

Still trying to hold it together for both of us.

We’re doing everything we can—and it still feels like we’re being punished for wanting peace.

All I want is to live.

To not constantly feel like I’m being crushed by bills, expectations, or this never-ending pressure to grind harder.

I see people online celebrating six figures from a course.

I see people quitting their jobs with a savings cushion I’ve never had access to.

And I wonder—what about the rest of us?

The ones who didn’t come from wealth?

The ones who are still climbing from rock bottom with dirt on their hands and no one pulling them up?

Final Word: I’m Still Here. Angry. Tired.

I don’t have a silver lining to tie this up with today.

All I know is this:

I’m still here.

Still writing.

Still showing up, even when I feel like the universe has gone silent.

If you’re feeling it too—angry, exhausted, on the verge—

I see you.

And maybe this post doesn’t fix anything,

but at least now, the truth is out in the open.

It’s all love.

Xo,

Nina.