I flipped it open again, running my fingers across the paper. Most of the pages were well-worn at this point, considering I bought the beautiful black book years ago. It always brought me comfort to turn the pages restlessly or stroke the soft cover when I was feeling stressed or down, or I guess even happy. I sighed to myself and put it back into my drawer, my eyes wandering across my computer screen.
You can do this, focus on your work and the day will be over in no time. I can’t get caught up in my thoughts again. There’s no time to think about ‘what-ifs’ or ‘could-haves’, just focus. But of course, my mind wonders, as if it has a mind of its own, as if its exactly what I wanted it to do anyway.
I can’t do this. I don’t care that everyone keeps telling me I can, that I’ll love my job, or I’ll feel more comfortable the more I do it. Why is it so hard to pretend I don’t care about that sinking feeling in my stomach? That roiling, rising, and fading sensation inside telling me I suck. I suck, I do, I know it and everyone else does too. I see it in their eyes when I hand in my reports, at meetings, when I’m with clients. They know I have no idea what I’m talking about, they could have asked the internet and gotten the same answers. They smile, they tell me I’m doing a great job, but I can see the pause, the lowering of their eyes, they don’t mean it. I’ve gotten so good at saying the right thing at the right time, just the odd nod of my head here and “ah huh, oh yeah I remember them mentioning that at university” and I’ve got them. They believe me, I got away with it again.
I’m barely getting by. With money? No, I mean keeping up with the charade. I need them to believe me, what would I do? I would have wasted all that time. Why aren’t I great yet? How will I even know? Those around me say they go through the same thing and I laugh to myself because I see them, they’re the real deal, they can’t possibly think they have the same doubts. I see the people who leave their room, they are beaming when they walk past me. I hear them talking to their partners about how great they feel, how good it was to get everything off their chests. You can see it their faces, you know?
I check my notes. I must make sure they are in the right order. Did I remember to write that email? I need someone to proofread that for me. I should ask for their opinion on this. I made sure I put the correct information in there right? Grammar check. Grammar check. Oops! That’s not their name! How could I have missed that? Okay that looks good, but let me check it again, and again, one more time?
I stand up and suck in a breath as I look at my watch. I can run to the bathroom before the review meeting, right? I splash my face with the cool water. Was that meant to help? It honestly just feels like I messed up my makeup. Mm-hmm, and now you can see my bruised plum under eyes. Yippee. Can I do it? Can I convince them that I am everything they want and need and desire? I want to cry. Deep breaths.
I head back to my desk and take out that stupid book. That stupid but gorgeous book. What was written in it? Absolutely nothing. It seemed like every time I had an idea, a thought, a quote, a story – it wasn’t good enough to tarnish its perfectly white pages. What if I made a mistake? What if it was stupid? I don’t want to ruin it.
One more flip through and feel good enough to head to the meeting.
“We want to send you to a conference.”
I blink stupidly at them. “I don’t…where?”
“Well, it’s actually to a few different countries. Your work has been paramount to our organisation and we need you to talk about your experience globally.”
It had to be a joke, surely?
“I don’t think I’m ready,” I said. “I don’t know how to talk to large groups of people, I can’t do it, I’m not ready…I can’t possibly be who you want to represent the company. Surely, it’s too expensive. Shouldn’t someone more senior be receiving that kind of endorsement?”
“You have been leading since you started here. You have demonstrated time and time again that your work is of the outmost care. Every single individual that has been to see you has given you and the company raving reviews. We wouldn’t be here without you. You have what it takes. A twenty-thousand dollar round trip is nothing in comparison to what your influence will bring.”
I left the room dumbfounded, obviously. I can’t. They don’t know it, but I can’t.
You can.
I can’t.
Write it down.
No…I can’t ruin that perfect little book.
You need to know that you can do this.
I remember my hand shaking as I brought the pen down on that blank page, I wrote the ‘Y’ and then there was no going back.
You have what it takes.
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“He Kept Going When No One Was Watching — And That Changed Everything”
No one ever noticed the days he almost gave up. There were no messages asking if he was okay. No one wondered why he became quieter. No one asked how much effort it took just to keep going. To the world, he was just another ordinary man. His name was Ayaan. Ayaan’s life didn’t collapse in one dramatic moment. It slowly faded. Missed opportunities. Rejected ideas. Silent disappointments. Every failure was small, but together they became heavy. He had dreams once. Big ones. Dreams that kept him awake at night, imagining a future where his hard work would finally matter. But over time, those dreams began to feel unrealistic—almost embarrassing. People around him seemed to move forward effortlessly. They celebrated promotions, achievements, and milestones. Ayaan watched from the side, smiling politely while feeling invisible. At work, his efforts were ignored. Among friends, his voice faded. At home, expectations weighed heavily on him. Slowly, a dangerous thought settled into his mind: “Maybe I’m not good enough.” That thought followed him everywhere. It followed him on crowded buses. It followed him into sleepless nights. It followed him every time he tried again and failed. One night, after scrolling through endless success stories online, Ayaan closed his phone and stared at the dark ceiling. His chest felt tight, not because of pain—but because of exhaustion. He whispered quietly, “How long do I keep trying?” There was no answer. But that night, Ayaan made a decision—not a loud one, not a confident one. A tired decision. He decided to keep going, even if nothing changed. The next morning felt the same. The same routine. The same doubts. The same fear of wasting his life. But Ayaan showed up anyway. He worked when no one praised him. He studied when no one guided him. He practiced when no one believed in him. Some days, motivation disappeared completely. On those days, discipline took over. He reminded himself: “I don’t need applause. I need progress.” Weeks passed. Nothing dramatic happened. No sudden success. No recognition. No miracle. But something subtle began to shift. Ayaan became calmer under pressure. He learned to sit with discomfort instead of running from it. He stopped comparing his journey to others. The silence that once scared him now became his training ground. Months later, a serious problem appeared at his workplace. It was complicated, risky, and easy to blame on someone else. Most people avoided it. Some pretended it wasn’t their responsibility. Ayaan didn’t announce himself. He didn’t seek attention. He simply started working. Late nights. Mistakes. Corrections. Learning. There were moments he wanted to quit. Moments when fear whispered, “You’re not ready.” But he answered back, “I’ll learn.” Slowly, the problem began to disappear. Not perfectly—but steadily. People noticed, quietly. One afternoon, his manager called him into the office. Ayaan expected criticism. Instead, he heard a question that stunned him: “Where did you learn all this?” Ayaan paused. How could he explain years of silent effort? How could he explain working when no one cared? He simply replied, “I kept going.” That moment didn’t change his life overnight. He didn’t become famous. He didn’t suddenly become successful. But it changed something far more important. His belief in himself. For the first time, Ayaan understood that life doesn’t always reward effort immediately. Sometimes, it watches. It watches who continues without praise. Who improves without recognition. Who grows in silence. Years later, Ayaan looked back at the version of himself who almost quit. The man who felt invisible. The man who thought no one was watching. And he smiled. Because he finally understood the truth: Life was always watching. Not to judge. Not to rush. But to see if he would keep going when it was hardest. The world doesn’t reward those who only work when they’re seen. It rewards those who build strength in silence. And sometimes, the moment that changes everything doesn’t come with applause. It comes quietly. After patience. After effort. After consistency. That is when everything finally begins to change. Final Message Keep going—even when no one is watching. Especially then.
By Inayat khan6 days ago in Motivation
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