Two Years That Changed Everything — But Not the Way I Thought 

I came into this fellowship full of dreams, wide-eyed, hopeful, and determined to make a difference. I believed that when your intentions are pure, the world opens up for you. That if you really want to work, you can work, and everything else will find a way. 

But life didn’t go that way. 

These two years played with my mind, my emotions, and my entire being. I was thrown into situations I never imagined. I tried to make sense of things that simply didn’t make sense. I laughed at every joke, smiled at everyone, tried to be strong but inside, I was crying. Every single moment. Not knowing what to do. I didn’t know why it felt so heavy. 

People saw the outside. They saw the workshops, the community meetings, the photos, the reports. What they didn’t see was the weight I carried. The nights I lay awake wondering if I was failing. The moments I stood in a room full of people and still felt completely alone. 

And the hardest part? I couldn’t even do what I truly wanted to do. Not because I lacked the will but because I lacked the support, the resources, the space. Money matters. Logistics matter. And when those are missing, even the purest dreams struggle to survive. 

What hurts most is not just the hardship, but the dismissal. The voices saying, “No one’s going to read it,” “It doesn’t matter.” But it does matter. To me, it mattered more than anything. Because this fellowship wasn’t a project it was my life for two years. My only focus. My only fight. 

So I’m writing this not to prove anything but because this is my truth. From the deepest part of my heart. 

I’m coming out of this fellowship with a heavy heart.

Not because I didn’t work hard.
Not because I didn’t care.
But because somewhere along the journey, I gave pieces of myself that I’m still trying to collect.

I don’t know if I failed. No one said I did. But I feel like I did.
Because I had a dream — a goal — and I couldn’t get there.

And that helplessness… I’m still holding it.