I am writing this beneath the blood moon. At least I think it is — the night sky glows strangely, like it’s carrying a secret. It feels right to write tonight, because what I’m carrying feels like a secret too.
The struggle is real. I hear that phrase all the time. It’s become a punchline, a hashtag, a shrug of solidarity when life is inconvenient. But tonight it is no meme. Tonight it is marrow.
For me, the struggle isn’t just about bills or work or the thousand small indignities of life. My struggle is quieter, crueler. It is about staying on the right path — a path that has felt steeper than usual lately.
It is hard to say this without sounding bitter, but the truth is this: the wrong path seems paved with gold. The wrong decisions glitter with profit and applause. Every scroll of my screen is another reminder that what the world rewards isn’t always what I’ve been taught is righteous.
My struggle has a voice.
It is mine.
And it whispers:
“Why are you doing this? Nobody cares. No one reads this. You’re not helping anyone.”
And sometimes I believe it.
Years ago, I heard a phrase: “If doing the right thing was easy, everyone would do it.”
That phrase has become a spine for me. I hold it upright when everything in me wants to slump over and quit.
There are those I will never ask if they read what I write. Because deep down, I know the answer. They don’t.
And yet, there is a strange freedom in not knowing for sure. Mystery is oxygen for the weary. If I asked and heard the silence confirmed, maybe I would stop. And that would kill something sacred in me.
So I keep going. Not because it’s easy. Not because anyone is clapping. But because somewhere, someone might find these words years from now and know that they were not alone.
What I want — what I am learning to want — is to get to the point where I don’t care whether anyone reads this.
I just want the words out there, carried on whatever current will take them.
Because maybe that is the work. To keep speaking into the night sky, whether or not there is an echo. To keep writing even when the moon turns red and the world feels upside down.
To choose the more challenging path, not because it is glamorous, but because it is right.
And tonight, under this red moon, I remind myself: the struggle is not a sign I am failing. The struggle is proof that I am still fighting.
By Kyle J. Hayes
kylehayesblog.com
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