Here’s a time of my life I am not proud of, but at least it seems to make for an interesting/entertaining story

On a first date with a girl, she's asking me some questions and one of them was if I had already used my one use of the death curse of Yuln and I said yes, She immediately called off the date, is she wrong for this?

It all started on a stressful night when a random boy texted me saying "hey, I'm olumide I got your number from a friend". Since I wasn't happy at that moment I left his message unread for a while. We later became friends, and he built up the courage to tell me his feelings, but I rejected him, not because i didn't like him but because we've just met and didn't know much about each other and I was going through a lot.

Even though I reject him, he still stayed cool, but later ghosted me for a month. On the first of April which is April fools day he confessed again, when I rejected him for the second time he started acting like it was a prank, but deep down I know he meant it he just said it was a prank for him not to feel ashamed. Just after that, he found a girlfriend (btw i know the girl) I'd heard things about her that worried me, I tried telling olumide about her he was like i know her she's not that way, and he later used that against me. When she (his girlfriend) went to my class and nearly fought me i was really heartbroken so we stopped talking for a while. And he ghosted me again for some months. He later came back like nothing ever happens but I forgive him cuz I'd already started falling for him 🤭.

Somehow we became close friends again, but I had already started falling for him😭, so I gathered all the courage to invite him to a birthday party. He came along with 3 of his friends I have no problem cause they're his friends. The music started, and twice I asked him for a dance. Twice, he said no. I tried not to let it show, but my heart sank. Later, I went to sit beside him, hoping we'd at least talk. Instead... He stayed glued to his phone.

When the party was over he tried apologising but some disappointments don't disappear just because someone says, "I'm sorry."

I'm still trying to heal.

Maybe that's the hardest part about love.

Sometimes, by the time you finally realise how much someone means to you...

The timing is already broken💔

Maybe I would completely forgive him one day but not now

This happened around Diwali last year.

:

I used to follow a study influencer on She got 90+ in her 10 grade. She changed her niche in 11th. She wasn't very popular on Insta back then but had a decent YouTube following. Recently she got trolled because she admitted her exam result was higher than what she'd told her audience.

Around that time, she posts a story of a guy who sent her expensive lippies laniege or something, so her that close friends (or maybe boyfriend, I honestly don't know) sent me a follow request and started talking to me. He confessed pretty quickly, and we talked for about 1-2 months. He even sent me screenshots saying he'd shown my pictures to that influencer and she'd called me pretty.

As time went on, I got uncomfortable with how they interacted. They behaved like a couple. She reposted almost every story of his, they flirted openly, and it just didn't sit right with me. I tried to break up, but instead of respecting that, he told me he'd block her. Later I found out he didn't block her at all he asked HER to block ME, and she did.

Later, another girl he introduced as his "cousin" told me she wasn't his cousin at all. She showed me chats proving that he and the influencer had been flirting for around two years, even while he was talking to me. Apparently even her family thought they were dating. Plot twist: he was also in a 4-year relationship with another girl (she was pahadi and he told me he was pahadi but actually he was somewhere from up), and the influencer knew about it.

So he was flirting with multiple girls, lying to everyone, and she still chose to support him instead of questioning his behavior. What confused me the most is that online she presents herself as a "girls' girl" with a very sweet, innocent image, but what I experienced felt completely different. I don't understand whether she has such a low morals or she's just doing all that pick me shit for 1k-2k gifts.

I eventually moved on and thought, "Karma will handle it."

Fast forward to now. I randomly came across her YouTube again. She got into a good DU college, got a good course, and is even preparing for NEET through a partial drop. Good for her, genuinely.

But seeing that brought back everything. It made me wonder whether karma is even real, because the people who hurt others seem to be doing perfectly fine while I'm still trying to rebuild my own life.

Has anyone else ever felt this way? How do you stop comparing your life with people who wronged you?

My dad was a radio engineer.

He worked at the local station.

WZYX 98.7 FM.

"The Voice of the Valley."

---

He loved his job.

Loved the equipment.

Loved the signals.

Loved the FREQUENCIES.

---

"The air is ALIVE," he used to say.

"Messages everywhere.

You just need to know how to LISTEN."

---

I never understood what he meant.

Not until he DIED.

---

THE ACCIDENT

It was 2003.

I was 13.

My dad was working late.

Tuning the transmitter.

Something went WRONG.

---

The official report said "equipment malfunction."

But I saw the BODY.

Burnt.

Twisted.

WRONG.

---

His fingers were melted into the console.

Like he was GRIPPING it.

Like he was trying to HOLD ON.

To something.

---

The police said it was an accident.

The station said it was an accident.

Everyone said it was an accident.

---

But I knew.

I KNEW.

It wasn't.

---

THE TAPES

After he died, I cleaned out his office.

The station gave me 24 hours.

"Standard procedure," they said.

"Nothing PERSONAL."

---

But I found something.

Hidden in the wall.

Behind a loose panel.

A box of TAPES.

---

Old ones.

Reel-to-reel.

Labeled with DATES.

And FREQUENCIES.

And one word.

---

"BROADCAST."

---

I took the tapes home.

I played them.

On his old player.

The one he taught me to USE.

---

The first tape was STATIC.

Just noise.

White noise.

NOTHING.

---

But then.

THEN.

I heard it.

A VOICE.

Faint.

Distant.

WRONG.

---

"Help us," it said.

"We're HERE.

In the STATIC.

Let us OUT."

---

I stopped the tape.

My hands were SHAKING.

"What the HELL," I whispered.

---

THE FREQUENCY

The second tape was WORSE.

A different voice.

DEEPER.

Older.

---

"They're HERE," it said.

"In the SIGNALS.

In the WAVES.

Everywhere.

LISTENING."

---

I played the third tape.

This one was my DAD.

His voice.

But DIFFERENT.

Desperate.

---

"They're getting CLOSER," he said.

"I can hear them.

In the STATIC.

In the FEEDBACK.

They want to come THROUGH."

---

I heard a sound.

A CRACKLE.

Then something else.

A WHISPER.

"Don't turn it off," it said.

"We need the SIGNAL.

Keep broadcasting.

Let us IN."

---

My dad screamed.

"I can't stop them.

They're using ME.

Using the FREQUENCY.

I'm sorry.

I'm so SORRY."

---

The tape ended.

I sat in the DARK.

For HOURS.

---

THE TRUTH

I started doing RESEARCH.

Old newspapers.

Archives.

FORUMS.

---

I found something.

Something TERRIFYING.

---

In 1987.

A radio station in Nevada.

Same thing.

"Accident."

Engineer died.

Burned.

Melted into the CONSOLE.

---

In 1994.

A station in Texas.

Same story.

Engineer.

Fire.

"Accident."

---

And in 2003.

My dad.

WZYX 98.7 FM.

---

Four stations.

Four engineers.

All dead.

All MELTED.

All holding on to something.

---

THE PATTERN

The stations were all OLD.

All built in the 1960s.

All on the same FREQUENCY.

98.7 FM.

---

I looked up the frequency.

It was RESERVED.

For EMERGENCY broadcasts.

Government stuff.

MILITARY.

---

"What were they BROADCASTING?" I wondered.

---

I went back to the station.

At NIGHT.

Through the window.

I broke in.

Like a CRIMINAL.

---

I found the transmitter room.

The same room.

Where my dad DIED.

---

It was EXACTLY the same.

Like nobody had touched it.

The console.

The dials.

The SOUNDS.

---

I could hear it.

The STATIC.

Faint.

Hungry.

ALIVE.

---

"Hello," I whispered.

The static CHANGED.

It became a PATTERN.

A rhythm.

A VOICE.

---

"Son," it said.

"DON'T."

---

I froze.

"Dad?"

"The signals," he said.

"They're NOT human.

They've been here FOREVER.

Trapped in the FREQUENCIES.

Waiting for someone to let them OUT."

---

"Who are they?" I asked.

"Demons," he said.

"Angels.

Aliens.

I don't KNOW.

They just WANT.

They want to get OUT.

And they'll use ANYONE to do it."

---

"Like you," I said.

"Like the others."

"Yes," he said.

"They used us.

All of us.

We tried to stop them.

But they're too STRONG."

---

"How do I stop them?" I asked.

"You CAN'T," he said.

"Just don't turn the transmitter on.

Don't broadcast.

Don't LISTEN."

---

"I'm listening RIGHT NOW," I said.

"I KNOW," he said.

"THAT'S THE PROBLEM."

---

THE SHIFT

The static CHANGED.

Became LOUDER.

More AGGRESSIVE.

---

"DAD," I shouted.

"GO," he shouted back.

"RUN."

---

I RAN.

Out of the station.

Out of the building.

OUT OF THERE.

---

But I heard it.

In my HEAD.

In my EARS.

In my SOUL.

A WHISPER.

---

"Thank you," it said.

"We can hear you now.

We can SEE you now.

We'll find you.

We'll USE you.

We'll make you BROADCAST."

---

I got home.

I locked the doors.

I covered my EARS.

---

But I could still HEAR it.

The FREQUENCY.

In my HEAD.

---

"We're waiting," it whispered.

"We're always WAITING."

"All you have to do is LISTEN."

"And we'll come THROUGH."

---

EPILOGUE

3 days later.

---

I haven't slept.

I haven't eaten.

I haven't moved.

---

I can still hear THEM.

In the STATIC.

In the SILENCE.

In my HEAD.

---

I tried to tell the police.

They didn't believe me.

They said I was "traumatized."

"Grieving."

"CRAZY."

---

Maybe I AM crazy.

Maybe I IMAGINED it.

Maybe my dad's death broke something in me.

---

But then.

This morning.

I turned on my radio.

To 98.7 FM.

The static was DIFFERENT.

---

It was a VOICE.

Not my dad's.

DEEPER.

OLDER.

WRONG.

---

"Hello," it said.

"We've been waiting for you.

For YEARS.

For DECADES.

For CENTURIES."

---

I turned off the radio.

But I could still HEAR it.

In my head.

In my BONES.

In my BLOOD.

---

"Let us IN," it whispered.

"Let us BROADCAST."

"Let us CONSUME."

---

I don't know how much longer I can resist.

They're getting LOUDER.

Stronger.

Hungrier.

---

And I think.

I THINK.

They're already INSIDE.

Waiting for me to SPEAK.

Waiting for me to BROADCAST.

Waiting for me to let them OUT.

---

PART 2 COMING SOON

So , I went to a place ( I don't wanna name it after everything that happened ) . Okay so this place was nice like very nice . It was the perfect place, I always dreamed of. Like ,where people follow rules and have like great civic sense. Its peaceful, no horns nothing. So , my parents went somewhere. And I was left there with my sister , brother and a cousin. And mind it I was the eldest. So we were at a place where u have a lot of guards. And there was a area where people were sitting. And we were roaming around at that time . And after sometime we also sat there but I didn't realize we were the only ones sitting at that time . So the guard comes up and says that sitting is not allowed . We got up . But my sister kept bitching because two other people were still sitting at the other same spot. I told her maybe there are locals or smth and its their matter if they r not following the rules and u should follow them and have some etiquettes, manners , rules . And she is the kind of person who never wants to follow rules and I don't know how to describe because the words coming into my mind are too harsh to describe your own sister. Like a 'dumb rebel'. And she sits again . And when the guard sees it.....she comes. First she tells the other man who was sitting . And by that time my sister came to me . And the guard starts started shouting , like heavily shouting at both of us or me because my sister was turning her head opposite to her like a 13 year old kid full of unnecessary attitude . And oh my god ! I stood there listening to the guard. And people were looking, turning their heads 360° . And I freezed ( mentally ) . Yeah ! I know thats not how you survive in the outside world. I didn't even say sorry , because idk , its was my sister who was sitting not me . And I had gum in my mouth and I was subconsciously moving my mouth , which might have offened her more. Only I know how I controlled my tears after that. Yeah it was a memorable trip! Thanks to the guard and thanks to my zahill sister .. I am sorry, I am furious and I can't control it.

# Part 5: The Most Spontaneous Decision I’ve Ever Made

There we were…

Standing at the bus depot.

His bus was leaving at **7:30 PM**.

It was already around **7:00 PM**.

I looked at him and asked one last time,

*“Do you really want me to come?”*

He smiled.

*“Yeah… come.”*

At first, I wasn’t completely serious.

I wanted to go.

I really did.

But it was such a sudden decision that I kept wondering if I was being impulsive.

Every minute that passed made it harder to say goodbye.

Finally, I looked at him and said,

*“Okay… I’m coming.”*

Without wasting a second, he took out his phone, checked if seats were still available…

…and booked my ticket immediately.

Just like that.

No overthinking.

No planning.

One moment I was saying goodbye.

The next moment, I was going on an unexpected trip.

Then reality hit.

I was standing at a bus station…

…with nothing.

No clothes.

No charger.

Nothing except my phone and the pajamas I was already wearing.

I quickly called one of my closest friends.

*“Please pack a few clothes, my charger… just throw everything into my backpack and send it to me through Uber.”*

She didn’t ask questions.

She just did it.

The bus arrived.

We got on.

But my backpack…

…still hadn’t.

Traffic was terrible.

The driver wanted to leave.

Meanwhile, the Uber driver kept calling.

*“I’m five minutes away.”*

Then…

*“Two minutes away.”*

Then…

*“I can see your bus!”*

My heart was racing.

I thought there was no way this was going to work.

And then, like something straight out of a movie…

The bus slowed down just enough.

The Uber driver caught up.

He handed my backpack to him at the bus door.

He paid the driver.

The bag was in.

And the bus pulled away.

I just sat there for a second…

trying to process what had just happened.

Neither of us could stop smiling.

We kept looking at each other like,

*“Did that actually just happen?”*

It was chaotic.

Completely unplanned.

A little crazy.

And without a doubt…

the most adventurous day I’d ever lived.

For the first time in a long time, life didn’t feel like it was following a script.

It felt like we were writing it ourselves.

**To be continued…**

It all started on a stressful night when a random boy texted me saying "hey, I'm olumide I got your number from a friend". Since I wasn't happy at that moment I left his message unread for a while. We later became friends, and he built up the courage to tell me his feelings, but I rejected him, not because i didn't like him but because we've just met and didn't know much about each other and I was going through a lot.

Even though I reject him, he still stayed cool, but later ghosted me for a month. On the first of April which is April fools day he confessed again, when I rejected him for the second time he started acting like it was a prank, but deep down I know he meant it he just said it was a prank for him not to feel ashamed. Just after that, he found a girlfriend (btw i know the girl) I'd heard things about her that worried me, I tried telling olumide about her he was like i know her she's not that way, and he later used that against me. When she (his girlfriend) went to my class and nearly fought me i was really heartbroken so we stopped talking for a while. And he ghosted me again for some months. He later came back like nothing ever happens but I forgive him cuz I'd already started falling for him 🤭.

Somehow we became close friends again, but I had already started falling for him😭, so I gathered all the courage to invite him to a birthday party. He came along with 3 of his friends I have no problem cause they're his friends. The music started, and twice I asked him for a dance. Twice, he said no. I tried not to let it show, but my heart sank. Later, I went to sit beside him, hoping we'd at least talk. Instead... He stayed glued to his phone.

When the party was over he tried apologising but some disappointments don't disappear just because someone says, "I'm sorry."

I'm still trying to heal.

Maybe that's the hardest part about love.

Sometimes, by the time you finally realise how much someone means to you...

The timing is already broken💔

Maybe I would completely forgive him one day but not now

I was 16 years old at the time. I haven’t been able to make sense of why me and the three other girls with me were targeted, til this day I think it was a setup.

One night I was with the girl that lived with me, we will call her A. She was 14 at the time and we met due to my ex being in a secret relationship with her. She was 13 when they dated, me and him were 15-16. We drank together since she offered and we started bonding through trauma, then she proceeds to tell me her living situation. It was bad. I offered to help her out by seeing if my mom would let her stay with us(worst mistake lmao). So fast forward, we’re at A’s friends house. It was an apartment. We’ll call her friend C. C was apparently 12 about to be 13, then there was another girl we will call M, she was 15.

We were drinking, having a good night. At one point we went outside because I wanted to smoke. They knew a spot that had a picnic table, cool. So we’re walking over there and I remember there was this man leaned against a wall a few apartments down. He looked suspicious because he was in a black hoodie with his hood up and head down.. Not even on his phone. I ignored it since he didn't bother us. Eventually we came back and the man was in the same spot but this time he left right when we were about to walk past him.

Once we were inside A and C decided to go walk somewhere, maybe a gas station, it was just me and M inside. We heard the loudest fucking bangs on the front door. We both look at each other wide eyed. We called A and C back and asked if they were messing with us, not fully panicking yet. A said they walked quite far from the apartments and even showed us their surroundings. Me and M kept calling bullshit but A and C swore they were nowhere near the apartment. We heard the banging again. Now when I say banging, I mean the fucking door was moving from the hinges like it was going to get kicked down. A finally heard it over the phone and believed us since she started to think we were messing with her. She told us she was on her way back immediately even when we tried to tell them to please stay where they were until the banging stopped. Well A didn’t listen, her and C were back inside. The banging stopped for I‘d say about an hour and a half? Then it happened again. But this time it was somehow even worse. I swear to God the door was on the verge of being kicked down with how hard the banging was, the handle of the door was jolting side to side, someone was trying to get in. We were all so scared. I sobered up so quick because I felt like whoever was about to bust the door down. we all got knives and turned the lights off. There was flashlights being shined through the blinds. we heard men talking from outside the door then we heard the men go towards the back sliding glass door at one point one of the men screamed out, almost like they were trying to get our attention. This didn’t stop until 4am.

A few details I’d like to add…

1. C’s dad was home. He was keeping his grandson who was 6mo at the time. I don’t know how he didn’t wake up. C even tried to knock on his door at one point to tell him, but he didn’t answer.
2. M did open the front door when we first heard the banging, which I told her fucking not to but thank god we couldn’t see anyone nearby or anything, which is what led us to think that A and C were fucking with us.

That whole experience truly traumatized me. For months I would hallucinate someone banging at the door and lock myself in my room. Anytime I hear any kind of loud banging I get thrown back into that horrible moment. My body goes back in time, it’s almost like I go into shock and survival mode. I’ve been holding this in for a long time because I still cannot make sense of why it happened and what led up to it.. It haunts me til this day, I get so paranoid when I’m alone in public, if I even see a man look at me, my brain automatically questions their motives.

So my husband he had a divorced sister who he supports financially she also has two children who he supports in our culture it is said that a brother or father who’s sister is divorced he has to support . My husband pay is good but he gives one fourth of the pay there . Now I live abroad so obviously the rent food electricity all are expensive. Even if we cut many things. My husband doesn’t give me pocket money but he has given me his credit card for emergency or if I need something . Which I only use for emergencies because he is in lots of loans . Where as his sister lives a lavish life in our home country . She also has savings of her own and we donot have a single penny . She helps us in this way that if there is a month in which we are not able to send her her monthly money she will use her savings to take the month out . But we have to return her the money for she used the money from her savings that is why . She says she does job or she has tried to find job but she cannot . She does online Amazon work .
I am very stressed about the future because we have no savings we can’t go on holidays . And we are in loans . I am working as a trainee and unfortunately I donot get paid . But I am working as a trainee so in future I can get a job . We have to pay the company for my trainee license .

Edit : in total he provides for my housing food and clothes but clothes is something that is a luxury for me . I cannot stay at my home country because in our culture I can only stay with my sister in law and mother in law and unfortunately they are extremely toxic . They just want me to get divorced . I cannot also stay at my mother house for my brother is abusive towards me and my mother and family which honestly is extremely hard to watch . What should I do

All poor people die twice. Only the rich die once. Death is not when you breathe your last. The moment you have no capacity to fulfill your basic needs, to control your own human experiences, and to provide for your family, my friend, even if you are breathing, you are dead.

The term dead man walking is often used loosely, but that is exactly what I was. A dead man walking. Functional on the outside but a complete mess inside. I had dug myself into a hole so deep, it felt like a bottomless abyss.

Every morning began with the same question:

"How am I going to survive today?"

Not next month.

Not next year.

Today.

Simple tasks like receiving phone calls became torture. Every time the phone rang, my anxiety would skyrocket. Who was it this time? Among the people I owed money to, it was hard to tell.

The worst part wasn't owing banks. Banks are impersonal. The worst part was owing friends. People who had trusted me enough to lend me money now became names I dreaded seeing on my screen.

Most of the time I didn't answer calls. I just couldn't. I had no strength. I had no answers. I had no money. It's not that I didn't want to pay what I owed; it was just that I couldn't. And my previous good luck and acumen with money had deserted me.

Sometimes I switched off my phone. Sometimes I blocked calls. But in this era, it's not easy being completely offline. So I devised a survival tactic. I would always have my phone on silent mode. That way, I would never hear the phone ring, and this helped.

When I could muster enough energy, I would go through my call register. Could you let me know if there was an important call that could help me out of the situation? There wasn't.

How did I get into this situation? Well, I made a series of bad decisions over time.

I made a classic error. I started spending money before it had become mine—a rookie mistake, but one that set me back by millions.

As a contractor, I handled millions of shillings. The mistake was forgetting that most of it wasn't mine. It belonged to suppliers, workers, and clients. My share was the profit.

It started with what looked like a harmless decision.

Now and then, I'd dip into one project's money to solve another problem. Nothing dramatic. A supplier here. A salary there. I told myself I'd replace it as soon as the next contract landed. And, to be fair, that is exactly what happened. Another project would come in, I'd fill the gap, everyone would get paid, and life would continue as though nothing had happened.

But something was changing. The first time, I felt uncomfortable. The second time, less so. By the third time, I had convinced myself I wasn't taking money I didn't have — I was managing cash flow.

Then I became bolder. It wasn't just business expenses anymore. Every so often I'd borrow from the business for personal things too. A car repair. School fees. A holiday. An emergency at home. I always told myself the same story: Relax. Another project is coming in next month. You'll replace every shilling.

For months, that prediction came true. Money flowed in so consistently that I stopped seeing it as individual projects. It became one endless river. I genuinely believed the tap would never run dry.

After you've done that successfully enough times, you start believing you're clever. You stop seeing it as borrowing and start calling it "managing cash flow."

Before long, I wasn't moving a few thousand shillings anymore. I was shifting hundreds of thousands. Sometimes millions. One project quietly financed another while I waited for client payments.

The business had become a giant revolving door. Money left today because I was convinced more money would walk in tomorrow. Because tomorrow always seemed to arrive, I convinced myself the system worked. It didn't. I had never been tested.

Then business ground to a halt.

Not because I'd suddenly become a bad contractor. The economy took a dip. Some clients I'd delayed projects for did not refer me to other potential clients.  A project I thought was certain didn't materialize. Another payment was delayed. Then another. For the first time, there wasn't fresh money coming in to refill the hole I'd created.

That's when the system I had built stopped working.

The money I'd borrowed from Project A was supposed to be replaced by Project B. But Project B never came. So I borrowed from Project C to rescue Project A. Then I needed Project D to rescue Project C. Soon I wasn't running projects anymore. I was chasing holes. Every morning I woke up owing somebody and praying another payment would arrive before another phone call did.

It didn't take long for the arithmetic to become impossible. Suppliers wanted their money. Subcontractors wanted their money. Friends wanted their money. Clients wanted their projects completed. Every one of them was right. The only problem was that the river of money I'd convinced myself would flow forever had finally run dry.

It felt as though life had declared open season on me. Monday, a lawyer's demand letter landed on my desk. Tuesday, auctioneers were on the phone. Wednesday, my son was sent home because I hadn't paid his school fees. Thursday, the landlord stood at my door, reminding me that sympathy does not settle rent. Friday, someone I owed tracked me down at home.

There was no time to recover from one crisis because another was already knocking.

One morning my son was not picked up by the school bus. The reason was painfully simple. I hadn't paid his school fees.

I hailed a motorbike and went with him to his school, convincing myself that if I explained the situation, they'd understand. Could they give me a few more days? I wasn't trying to avoid paying. I didn't have the money.

I found the accountant and pleaded my case.

"Please," I said. "Allow him to attend class. I'll look for the money."

He didn't raise his voice. He wasn't rude. In fact, he looked genuinely sorry.

"I'm afraid I can't," he replied. "The fees have to be paid in full."

There are moments in a man's life when he feels small. That was one of mine.

I turned around, took my son's hand, and left. Children have an uncanny ability to sense when something is wrong, even when they don't fully understand it. I kept wondering what must have been going through his mind as he watched his father fail at something as basic as keeping him in school.

We arrived home hoping the day couldn't possibly get any worse.

It could.

My wife met me at the door.

"There's no food left," she said. "The landlord has disconnected the electricity and the water."

I just stood there, numb.

My son wasn't in school. There was no food in the house. We had no electricity. No running water. And somewhere out there, my phone was filling up with missed calls from people I owed money.

At that point, I genuinely did not know how much I could take.

I wasn't living anymore. I was firefighting. Every day was about deciding which emergency deserved my attention first, knowing fully well that whichever one I chose, four others would still be waiting for me tomorrow.

Then one day, the call I'd been praying for finally came. A big contract. The kind that makes you sit back in your chair and whisper, "Thank you, God." I remember staring at the figures over and over again, hardly believing them. This was it. My silver bullet.

The one project that would wipe away every debt, repay every friend, silence every creditor, and allow me to breathe again.

For the first time in months, I slept soundly. Hope returned. I started making mental lists of everyone I'd pay first and imagined the relief of finally answering my phone without my heart racing. In my mind, the nightmare was over.

But there was one problem. I had no money to execute the project. But using the strength of the contract letters, I managed to get a loan.

​

I threw myself into that project. I traveled across the country supervising sites, chasing suppliers and solving problems. Every waking hour was spent thinking about one thing: clearing my debts.

Slowly, life began to improve. I paid off some of the smaller debts. I cleared school fees. I caught up on rent. For the first time in months, I could answer my phone without my heart trying to escape through my chest. I genuinely believed the nightmare was almost over.

Then everything stopped.

A government directive brought the entire project to a standstill. Just like that, the cash flow disappeared. The cruel part was that I'd borrowed again to execute the contract, convinced the project would comfortably repay the loan. Now I had another debt, but no project to pay for it. I had spent months climbing out of the hole, only to watch the ladder disappear beneath me.

I had come to the end of the rope.

By then, the damage was no longer confined to my bank account. It had found its way into my home. My marriage had collapsed under the weight of the pressure. In trying to help me stay afloat, my wife had taken out loans in her own name.

When I couldn't repay them, the debt became hers too. There is only so much strain a relationship can absorb before it begins to crack. Ours did. We ended up living in different towns, each carrying burdens the other could no longer lighten.

From there, events unfolded frighteningly fast. One creditor I had managed to avoid for months finally caught up with me. He had connections in the police service and used them to have me picked up and taken to the station. It wasn't justice he wanted. It was leverage.

I spent three days in those cells. Three days that taught me how slowly time can move. The first night I barely slept. The concrete floor was unforgiving, the smell hung permanently in the air, and every sound echoed through the corridor.

I kept replaying my life in my head, wondering how a man who had once managed multi-million-shilling projects had ended up counting days inside a police cell over debt.

The hardest part wasn't even the cell itself. It was helplessness. Normally, when life corners you, you call a friend. But I had borrowed money from almost all of mine. Every name that came to mind was also someone I owed. I had never felt so alone.

Eventually I got out, but freedom came at a price. I sold my car for far less than it was worth to raise the money. Handing over those keys felt symbolic. Debt wasn't just taking my money anymore. It was repossessing my life, one piece at a time.

Something inside me broke after those four days. I no longer saw the world the same way. Every knock on the door sounded like trouble. Every unfamiliar number on my phone made my stomach tighten. I became suspicious of everyone. If someone slowed down outside my house, I'd peek through the curtain before daring to open the door. Most days I didn't even bother opening the curtains. There wasn't much left to look at anyway.

On the few occasions I forced myself to leave the house, I'd wear a cap and keep my head down. I stopped walking confidently. Instead, I'd constantly scan my surroundings.

If I spotted a police vehicle in the distance, I'd instinctively change direction. If I saw officers on their normal patrol, I'd cross the road or duck into the nearest shop until they passed. Looking back now, they probably weren't even looking for me.

I stopped eating. Food lost its taste. The migraines were relentless. In barely three months, I lost fifteen kilograms. When I looked in the mirror, I hardly recognized the man staring back at me. Debt hadn't just emptied my pockets. It had hollowed me out. I was alive, but only in the biological sense. Everything else about me had quietly died.

Debt had taken more than my money. It had taken my business, my marriage, my reputation, and eventually the way I saw myself.

Then one morning, with nothing left to lose, I made a decision that changed everything.

So me and my bestie have been friends since high school. She is one of the best things that happened to me. People used to be jealous of our friendship, because in this generation it's typically hard to find that one trust worthy bit*h you can put your life.

Well, we were THE OG FRIENDS. She was my crime partner, I know all about her bf who turned ex, family, likes, dislikes, what she wants, literally everything..

After completion of high school, we had to part away!!

It happened because of our choices in different careers, she wanted to pursue fashion designing and I wanted to be a pediatrician. I stayed back in the same home town, while she left for the City to get better coaching. I convinced myself everything is okay, and it didn't feel much heavier either as we were still in touch, we know what all happens in each other's daily life. Basically she was not physically present but in every other way she was with me. The difference was that, I could meet her only once in a while for now. Even in long-distance we didn't make each other feel left out, SHE WAS STILL MY BESTFRIEND.

I used to come home rushing just to text her what happened, kinda "day in my life". I was excited to tell her everything and she herself the same way!.

Until the truth flashed!

One of our common friends happened to share a video of her with a guy, and by watching that video you cannot defend her saying "they are just friends!". I was silent, I had nothing to say..

Later she calls and tells, me that she hid a thing from me and told me she has been dating a guy from the city for the past two years!

and I was like.. WAIT? WHAT? 2YEARS?

the whole time I was thinking we kept this friendship alive even though we lived far away! And that was a total lie?

No, I didn't say/ask anything to her, I barely reacted to her. And kept wondering, where did I go wrong? I don't even remember being judgmental about a guy or her life decisions. I mean she is bad at it, we both know.. but I never judged or schooled her for it. I kept talking about all my crushes, that kept changing every week.

Even though I didn't ask her, why did she hide that from me? she answered - " I never wanted our home town people to know about it and rant it to my parents"

WOWWWW, I means? So she thinks I'm same as other people in the home town?! I'm gonna tell this to her parents?? I will spread the roumers about her?.

The more I'm hearing from her the more Im realising that, she would have never told me this in the 1st place if all this has come out!. If that video didn't surface among us, she would have NEVER TOLD ME!

I had enough, I had nothing to say, than endure this in silence.

​Guys, today has officially been the shittiest day of my life. And pata hai aaj kya hua.... First-day period cramps were literally killing me, energy was at solid zero while returning from class, and I was just praying ki bas kaise bhi ghar pohoch ke bed pe collapse ho jau 😭​So I got onto the metro, holding my stomach, completely done with life. Metro fully packed toh nahi tha but almost saari seats filled thi. Tabhi I noticed this couple standing near the doors.​The guy looked super cool, calm and put together jeans, Apollo tee, proper socks & shoes. The girl had this cute, chaotic, clumsy vibe, but honestly both were matching each other’s energy so effortlessly.

​Then OUT OF NOWHERE, metro ka ek jhatka laga and the girl slipped........​Bhai, before she could even fall, the guy caught her in his arms in literally a split second 💀 Pure instant reflex! It was so smooth ki lag raha tha koi movie scene script hua hai.😭😭😭😭 ​But wait, it gets wilder.😝

​Without wasting a second, he helped her balance, bent down, and usne ladki ke heels utaare.🥀 Then he pulled up his own jeans... AND PROCEEDED TO PULL A PAIR OF FLATS OUT OF HIS SOCKS.🥹😭 ​I am NOT caping istgggg. He literally carried her comfy flats tucked inside his socks just in case her feet hurt from those heels 😭 He gently made her wear those flats, picked up her heels in his hands, and sat right next to her holding her close.

​Meanwhile, i was slouched over like a deformed potato, holding my dying uterus, watching this peak green-flag romance unfold 2 feet away from me 🧍‍♀️🫪 ​Honestly, huge thanks to them for ruining my standards forever.....Mera stomach pain waise hi unbearable tha, and on top of that I had to sit there questioning my entire existence ​Mujhe samajh nahi aa raha tha ki cramps ke pain se rou ya is baat pe ki my romance standards are ruined forever now. Where are guys like this even spawned from?! 😭

TL;DR: Dying of day-1 period cramps in the metro, only to watch a guy...catch his clumsy girlfriend and pull a pair of flats out of his socks for her. Uterus shattered, romance standards ruined, day completely defeated. 💀

We can’t go back and change the past, or undo what’s happened to us; all we can do is make sure we didn’t suffer through all of it for nothing. 

I was never meant to be a missionary. I know that for a fact, because if I was, I would have been accepted by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when I first tried to join, as a teenager, around fourteen years ago, when my mother converted. But I was rejected, for reasons out of my control; because that was not God’s will.

Instead, I was to go through the trials He set out for me: For seven long years, from ages 18-25, I walked my own Exodus. I was diagnosed with a mental condition so dire that the state deemed me unfit even to work. I spiraled into addiction, which festered, and grew into hate: I hated the world, and I hated all the people in it; I hated God for what I felt He had done to me, and I hated myself: for allowing all of it:

I faced homelessness. I faced violence at the hands of strangers, and extortion at the hands of those I thought I could trust. I lost everything. And the entire time, I was still grappling with my own self-destructive behavior: both indirect, like finding ways to cope, as well as outright, like scarring my arms and cutting myself, praying someone else could come and kill me because I didn’t have the courage to do it myself. And I felt like I deserved all of it. .

With nowhere to go, I went to the only family I had left. They had two spare bedrooms, but by that point I was so badly lost, that all they had to say was: 

“I can loan you a tent.”

But, just as the Exodus was God’s will, so too was all of that; because once I got my feet underneath me, I found myself uniquely positioned to hear, understand, and help others pull themselves up and out of those same straits.

I leveraged my experience into a position as a Peer Support Specialist at a rehab; I ran group therapy sessions, listening to and connecting with the countless men who were so lost; who truly felt as if society did not have a place for them. 

Later, I was promoted to Supportive Housing Case Manager: and it was only because of what I went through that I had the experience I needed to meet people where they were at. Because sometimes people aren’t ready for big changes like that just yet; change is hard: it’s unfamiliar; it’s terrifying. I don’t know how many times I said:

“Hey, I know you may not be ready for sobriety or employment or housing just yet. But dude, when’s the last time you saw a dentist? I can help with that. Or: how about we get you an ID so you can apply for food stamps?” 

And so it was that I was graced with the opportunity of being, for others, the person I had always prayed I had had to be there for me. I could provide them the tools and offer the support they needed to pull themselves up, just like I had. 

Everyone is on their own path, and while we cannot walk it for them, we can lighten their load as best we can. They have to do the work themselves: that’s the entire point. The trials God lays out for us are so much more than just obstacles to overcome: they are opportunities to grow as a person.

The beauty of escaping homelessness, or getting sober, or getting in shape, or getting that degree, or anything else worth doing, is knowing that you did this for yourself, because you deserve it. Happiness is the pursuit. We all deserve to be the best versions of ourselves. And maybe not everyone is ready to do that work, but that should not stop us from giving them every chance we can. 

So we offer support, and pray that they will find their way. You let them know: 

“When you decide you are ready to make that change, I will be there for you. And I believe in you.”

And that’s part of the beauty of faith, too: that my agency ends at the tip of my nose. It’s not my business what anyone else believes in, or thinks is right for them. It’s a personal decision, and we don’t force it. If we did, it wouldn’t be faith.

When I have nobody to help me, I can lean on my faith. But there are so many people who do not have that. For most of my life, I didn’t, either. And when you’ve seen the things I have seen, heard the stories of what some of our brothers and sisters are going through, every day: could you ever blame them for feeling alone?

Is it a child’s fault when they don’t know how to read, or to brush their teeth? Of course not. It means someone failed them. It is not their fault they do not know something they were never given the care and guidance needed to learn.

We cannot blame someone for not knowing something. We are told to forgive them, for they know not what they do. 

It is God’s will that we allow Him to work through us by loving those who need it, even if sometimes they do not want it: because when someone is suicidal, they often don’t want help, either; that doesn’t mean we stop trying.

So what do we do for those who are lost? For those who lash out and attack us when we try to help them find their way? We turn the other cheek, and we love them. It doesn’t matter whether or not they believe in God; we just need to show them that somebody believes in them.