“Running to survive.”

I don’t remember when my life began with the word run.
Maybe it started the moment I understood that if I didn’t run,
there would be nothing to eat tomorrow.

Every morning, I wake before the sun rises.
Not because I love dawn.
But because I have no choice.

I run to catch the first bus.
Run so I won’t be docked for being late.
Run to keep a job that dozens of others are waiting to take.
Run to pay rent, electricity, water, and the money I send home.
Run so I won’t become a burden to anyone.

I run because if I stop,
everything collapses on me first.

Some days, I catch my reflection in a shop window:
a person walking fast, head down, eyes tired,
hands carrying the cheapest food I can afford.

I look at that reflection
and I don’t recognize myself.

It feels like I’m watching someone else —
someone who only knows how to run.

I don’t remember the last time
I ate a meal without rushing.
I don’t remember the last time
I slept without worry.
I don’t remember the last time
I laughed without forcing it.

Sometimes I ask myself:

“If I stopped for just one day… what would happen?”

And I answer myself:

“I don’t dare find out.”

Once, I had a fever.
A fever so high I could barely stand.
But I still went to work.

Not because I’m strong.
But because I know:

If I take a day off, I lose money.
If I take too many days off, I lose my job.
If I lose my job, I lose everything.

My manager looked at me and said:

“If you’re not well, go home and rest…
but your pay will be deducted at the end of the month.”

I smiled.
Not because I was okay.
But because I knew
I didn’t have the privilege to be sick.

People ask me:

“Why don’t you find an easier job?”
“Why don’t you study more to change careers?”
“Why don’t you try starting a business?”
“Why don’t you slow down?”

I stay quiet.
Not because I don’t want those things.
But because I don’t have the time to want them.

When you run to survive,
you don’t have the luxury of choosing.

One evening after work,
I sat on the steps outside my rented room.
The wind was gentle.
I watched people passing by:

the delivery driver
the lottery ticket seller
the construction worker
the street vendor

And I realized:

It’s not just me.
This whole neighborhood is running.
This whole city is running.
This whole society is running.

And the ones running the fastest…
are the ones with the least.

I don’t know when my life will change.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop.
I don’t know if I’ll ever have a day to live slowly.

But I know one thing:

I don’t run because I want to.
I run because I have to live.

And sometimes,
just having someone understand that
is enough to make the burden feel a little lighter.