When the World Moves On and You’re Still Stuck

The world clapped when Arman threw his graduation cap in the air. Cameras flashed. Smiles bloomed. A degree in his hand, hope in his eyes. That day, everything felt possible.

But that was a year ago.Now, the same hands that held a diploma tightly scroll job sites until midnight. His inbox is full of “Thank you for applying, but…” emails. The smiles are gone. The hope? Slipping.

Arman is 24, sitting in a small room he shares with his younger brother. Posters of business moguls cover his walls — reminders of what he wants but can’t reach. His laptop, cracked near the hinge, sits silently on the desk. It's seen dozens of resumes, business ideas, half-written plans, and failed grant applications.

His father doesn’t understand.

“You studied all these years. What now? Still no job?”

Arman nods quietly. It’s always easier to stay silent than explain the mess in his head. He knows his father isn't cruel. Just tired. Just scared. Like him.

Every day, Arman wakes up with a plan. By noon, the plan falls apart. Some days, he wants a stable job — a salary, some respect, something to point to when people ask, “What do you do?” Other days, he dreams of starting his own digital marketing firm — an idea he had in college. But dreams cost money. And Arman doesn’t have it.

His friends are all moving forward. Some post photos in office chairs. Others travel, buy new phones, get engaged. Arman clicks “like” and swallows the weight in his throat.

It isn’t that he’s lazy. He applied for jobs — hundreds. He polished his CV, wrote tailored cover letters, attended online workshops. But nothing sticks. Sometimes, he thinks it’s bad luck. Other times, he blames himself. Maybe he’s just not good enough.

Nights are the worst. Thoughts come like waves. “You’re wasting time.” “You’re disappointing everyone.” “You’re falling behind.” The world outside his window sleeps. Inside, his mind races.He tried freelancing. It paid little. He tried selling his ideas to investors — none replied. He even thought about moving abroad, but that costs money too. Every choice needs something he doesn’t have.

The hardest part? The silence from the people who once cheered the loudest. Some relatives avoid asking about his job now. Others give unwanted advice. “Take anything,” they say. “Start small.” But even starting small needs a door to open, and all Arman sees are walls.

Then there’s his mother.She sees his pain without words. Leaves tea by his desk. Adjusts the blanket when he falls asleep at the keyboard. She never asks him why he looks tired. She knows.

One evening, Arman sits on the roof, watching lights flicker across the city. Everyone seems to be going somewhere. He feels stuck. Like he's on pause, while life plays on fast-forward.

He opens his notebook. Inside, pages of dreams — business plans, app ideas, logo sketches. He flips through them, wondering if they’ll ever come to life. He closes the book and writes one new sentence:

“I won’t give up, even if I don’t know the way.”

It isn’t much. But it’s something.

The next morning, Arman applies for another job. It’s not ideal. But it's a step. That same day, he revises his business pitch, again. Sends it to five new contacts. He doesn’t expect replies. But he sends them anyway.

He starts waking up earlier. Working out. Reading more. Writing ideas down, even the bad ones. He still doubts himself, still feels lost, but he moves.

Some days are worse than others. But he’s learning: life doesn’t follow a script. Not everyone gets the job right away. Not every dream starts with funding. Some people crawl before they walk.

And Arman? He’s crawling, yes. But forward.

Maybe one day, he’ll have that firm. Maybe he’ll lead a team, design campaigns, mentor young dreamers. Or maybe he’ll find peace in a stable job, build something slowly on the side.

He still doesn't know which path he'll take. But he's stopped standing still.

And in a world that demands so much, sometimes that’s the bravest thing to do.