This world does not make it easy to believe. You see it in the streets, in the cracks of the sidewalks and the hollows of children’s eyes—eyes that beg not just for food but for something far deeper: safety, love, and a foundation that won’t give way beneath them. Everywhere you look, there are broken promises scattered like shards of glass, sharp enough to wound even the careful.
And then there are the headlines. They roll in like waves, one after another, a dirge for all the things we’ve lost: kindness, trust, the ability to see hope in a storm. The news doesn’t just inform; it exhausts, wearing down even the strongest spirit. The weight of it makes you want to retreat, to build walls high enough to protect your heart from the relentless ache of the world.
She feels it all. Every crack in the foundation, every cry for something solid in this quicksand of a world. And she is tired—bone-tired. Tired of holding herself upright when it feels like the ground beneath her crumbles a little more each day. Tired of carrying the weight of believing in something better, something brighter, when so much of what she sees says otherwise.
But maybe, just maybe, the tiredness means she’s still trying. That even in the weariness, there’s a small spark left—faint, but there. Maybe it’s enough to keep her standing, enough to remind her that the world, though harsh, isn’t the whole story.
Because while the streets may be littered with broken promises, they are also filled with people who refuse to stop hoping. People who extend a hand, who hold each other up, who carry light into the dark corners. The headlines may be grim, but they don’t tell every tale—there are stories of resilience, of love found in the rubble, of humanity refusing to give up.
She reminds herself of this, even as the weight presses down. She lets herself feel the exhaustion but doesn’t let it define her. Because believing in something better is not easy—it’s a rebellion, a declaration, a choice to see the light when the world insists on darkness. And though she is tired, she keeps standing. Because even the smallest spark can start a fire.
B 🤍
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