Hunted 

Lately, I feel like I am being hunted—not by monsters, but by the very dreams and plans I once thought would save me. They don’t feel like hopes anymore; they feel like ghosts chasing me at every turn. My passion, my dream job, the life I carefully pictured in my mind—they all used to give me strength. Now, they sit heavy on my chest every night, reminding me of everything I’m not and everything I failed to become.

I used to believe that if I planned hard enough, if I dreamed big enough, I would get there. But reality has this cruel way of twisting things, turning dreams into burdens and plans into chains. It hurts to admit, but I no longer look at my dreams with excitement—I look at them with fear. Fear that I will never reach them. Fear that I will always fall short.

Every night, these thoughts visit me. They whisper all the things I avoid during the day: “You’re running out of time. You’re not enough. Look at how far you still are.” And no matter how many times I try to silence them, they come back, louder and louder. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I should keep chasing or just let go. But letting go feels like giving up on myself, and chasing feels like running in circles.

It’s exhausting. And the worst part is, no one really sees this battle. On the outside, I look fine—busy, productive, functioning. But inside, I am haunted. Haunted by every unfinished plan, every dream that’s slipping through my fingers, and every version of myself I wanted to become but couldn’t.

And so, night after night, I fight with these thoughts. The dreams that once lit up my world have become shadows that won’t let me sleep.

- Keishan Daye Co