In the end it doesn't even matter...

Every day, every hour, every second feels like a prison. I'm trapped—trapped in my own mind. Just look around. What are we even doing? What is life supposed to be about?

Survival? Don't even think about it. The world is run by greed. Given the chance, people will take everything from you and watch you rot without a second thought. And you? You can’t do a damn thing about it. You just sit there, watching, powerless.

They say you can change your perspective, that you can carve out something for yourself. But in the end, does it really matter? Just look at where we’re heading. We’re still killing each other for resources, still waging wars that were supposed to end all wars. If you want to survive, you have to be like them—ruthless, heartless. But I can’t. I refuse.

I still have faith in myself, even if it’s fading. I want to chase my dreams, but every step forward feels impossible. Not because it is, but because I can’t afford to chase something for myself. I don’t live for me—I live for them. The people who raised me. The ones who sacrificed for me. I can’t be a waste of their time, their effort, their love. My only mission is to take care of my siblings, to make sure they have a future.

I don’t want anything for myself. Just them. Only them.