At 62 years old, my world feels like it has crumbled beneath my feet. For 15 years, I dedicated myself to my internet job, pouring my heart and soul into my work. It was my lifeline, my connection to the outside world, and my source of financial stability. But now, after being let go, I find myself standing at the edge of an unwelcome abyss, struggling to grasp the faintest glimmer of hope.

This pick was taken 2 years ago when I thought there was still hope. Now I am not smiling anymore.

The days stretch endlessly before me, each one blending painfully into the next. I thought my experience would be an asset, but the reality is harsh. Opportunities seem to vanish as quickly as they appear, like shadows retreating from the light. It’s a cruel joke that in a world so connected, I now feel utterly isolated. The job market has little room for someone my age, and each rejection email feels like another blow to my already fragile spirit.

As I confront the reality of my aging body, I can feel the weight of my years bearing down upon me. My health, once something I took for granted, has begun to falter. Simple tasks that I once approached with vigor now leave me breathless, and the panic attacks—those unwelcome intruders—have begun to haunt my nights, stealing what little peace I had.

With no pension to rely on, I grapple with the terrifying uncertainty of my future. How will I support myself? The thought gnaws at me relentlessly, a constant reminder of my precarious situation. Most of my peers are comfortably retired, enjoying the fruits of their labor while I find myself scrambling for scraps, desperately trying to hold on to a sense of dignity.

In moments of solitude, I often find tears streaming down my cheeks, an expression of grief for the life I once knew and the dreams that now feel so far out of reach. The struggling flame of hope flickers faintly within me, yet the darkness looms ever closer. I fear what lies ahead, for with every passing day, the void I feel grows deeper.

This is my reality: a tragic destiny not just of loss, but of a relentless fight for survival. In the depths of my soul, I yearn for understanding, compassion, and perhaps a sign that I am not as alone in this battle as I feel. But in this journey, all I can do is keep pushing forward, even when every step feels like a monumental task, even though I have been thinking to end this agony.

Thank you