There was a time my life had no direction. Hunger was my daily reality. I woke up every morning not knowing where my next meal would come from. Some days, I begged for food from neighbours. Other days, I survived on tea or slept hungry. Shame became my closest companion, and hope slowly disappeared from my heart.
I was once hardworking and full of dreams. I believed life would get better if I kept pushing. But things went wrong one after another. I lost my job, my small savings disappeared, and friends slowly walked away. When I needed them most, they avoided my calls. Poverty reduced me to someone people looked down on.
There were moments I questioned my existence. I watched people eat while my stomach burned with hunger. I remember one day standing outside a shop, staring at food I could not afford. Tears rolled down my face, and I felt completely defeated. That was my lowest point.
I tried casual jobs, but they were not enough. Every coin went to rent, leaving nothing for food. I lived one day at a time. At night, I prayed silently, asking God to show me a way out. I was tired of surviving — I wanted to live.
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