Then, Try

Then try—

not because the road is kind,

not because the sky has promised you blue,

not because the world is waiting with applause,

but because there is still breath in your chest

and a quiet voice inside you

that has not finished speaking.

Try after the first failure,

when your hands feel empty

and your confidence lies scattered

like broken glass on the floor of yesterday.

Try when the mirror reflects doubt

more clearly than hope,

when your own name sounds unfamiliar

spoken aloud with disappointment.

Try when “almost” becomes a wound,

when effort brings no reward,

when nights grow longer

and mornings feel heavier than sleep.

Try when you are tired of trying,

when motivation has packed its bags

and left without explanation.

Then try again.

Try softly at first,

as one might knock on a door

they fear will never open.

Try with trembling hands,

with a voice unsure of its strength,

with a heart patched together

by fragile threads of hope.

Understand this:

trying is not the opposite of failure.

Trying is what failure leans on

to become wisdom.

Every attempt carries memory,

every mistake hides a map,

every wrong turn whispers

where not to go again.

Then try when others doubt you,

not loudly, not to prove,

but quietly, steadily,

for yourself.

Try when advice sounds like noise,

when comparisons steal your peace,

when success stories feel like shadows

stretching longer than your courage.

Try when no one is watching.

Try when applause is absent.

Try when progress is invisible,

measured only by the strength

you didn’t know you were building.

There will be days

when trying feels foolish,

when rest seems wiser than risk,

when surrender wears the mask of peace.

On those days, try differently.

Try resting without quitting.

Try pausing without giving up.

Try breathing before running again.

Then try with patience.

Growth is not loud.

It does not announce itself.

It happens underground,

in unseen roots pushing through darkness,

in silent endurance learning its own rhythm.

Try when the past calls your name,

listing everything you failed to become.

Try when regret sits beside you

like an unwanted companion.

Remember: the past is a lesson,

not a life sentence.

Try when fear tightens its grip,

when “what if” becomes heavier

than “what could be.”

Fear is not a stop sign.

It is a checkpoint,

asking how much you care

about what lies ahead.

Then try with faith—not blind faith,

but earned faith,

the kind built from survival,

from scars that did not break you,

from moments you endured

when you thought you wouldn’t.

Try when the dream changes shape,

when what you wanted once

no longer fits who you are now.

Trying does not mean clinging.

Sometimes it means releasing,

redefining, rebuilding.

Try when success arrives quietly,

when it does not look like victory

but like relief,

like peace,

like standing still without pain.

Honor that too.

Trying is not only about reaching higher—

sometimes it is about standing stronger.

Then try for love.

Try to forgive when bitterness feels easier.

Try to listen when silence feels safer.

Try to stay open

in a world that teaches armor.

Trying to love

is the bravest attempt of all.

Try for yourself,

for the person you were

before doubt taught you restraint.

Try for the version of you

who believed without evidence,

who dreamed without apology.

And when you fall again—

because you will—

do not ask why you failed.

Ask what you learned.

Ask how you survived.

Ask what strength appeared

that wasn’t there before.

Then try once more,

not as the same person,

but as someone changed,

someone wiser,

someone who knows

that trying is not weakness.

Trying is resistance.

Trying is hope in motion.

Trying is saying,

“I am not done,”

even when the world suggests otherwise.

So when the night is heavy

and the future unclear,

when answers hide

and courage feels thin,

remember this simple, stubborn truth:

You do not need certainty to continue.

You do not need perfection to proceed.

You only need the courage

to take the next small step

and then—

try.