Maybe I Should Just Win the Lottery
Paolo stopped counting rejection emails after the fiftieth one. At first, he used to read every message carefully. “Unfortunately…” “We decided to move forward with another candidate…” “We’ll keep your resume on file…” Different companies. Same disappointment. By the third week of unemployment, those emails started sounding identical. Cold. Polite. Forgettable. He got laid off in the middle of March. The company called it “restructuring.” Such a clean corporate word for suddenly removing someone’s stability. One moment he was attending meetings and complaining about deadlines like everyone else. The next moment he was carrying a cardboard box home pretending he was emotionally okay. At first, unemployment almost felt unreal. Friends joked about his “forced vacation.” Relatives said, “Enjoyin mo muna pahinga.” Some people even sounded jealous. Paolo laughed along because explaining the anxiety behind unemployment was exhausting. What nobody saw were the spreadsheets. Every application carefully tracked. Company names. Dates submitted. Interview schedules. Follow-up emails. One hundred twenty-three applications. He memorized the number because each application quietly carried hope. And each rejection quietly destroyed a little more of him too. Most companies never replied. Some rejected him immediately. A few gave interviews that temporarily made him believe things were finally changing. Those were the worst ones. Because hope becomes dangerous when you desperately need something to work. Paolo started mastering interviews out of survival. He researched companies before calls, rehearsed answers repeatedly, smiled even when exhausted, and forced confidence into his voice during final interviews while secretly worrying whether his bank account could survive another month. There were nights he stayed awake replaying conversations in his head. Maybe I answered that wrong. Maybe I sounded nervous. Maybe they found someone better. Then another rejection email would arrive anyway. Two months into unemployment, his life slowly became measured through expenses. Electric bills. Internet. Groceries. Transportation. Everything suddenly looked expensive when no money was entering anymore. Then came the Meralco bill. Triple the amount from last month somehow despite barely changing their electricity consumption. His mother complained loudly while holding the paper bill in disbelief. Paolo sat quietly at the dining table pretending not to panic. Because nothing feels heavier than financial pressure when you already feel useless. That night his father casually asked, “Wala pa rin?” Paolo forced a smile. “Meron pa akong pending interviews.” The truth was he no longer knew whether those interviews meant anything anymore. The hardest part about unemployment was not laziness. It was helplessness. People think unemployed individuals are resting peacefully at home when many are actually fighting silent mental battles daily. Every morning Paolo woke up with guilt already waiting for him. Guilt for eating without contributing. Guilt for resting when bills continued arriving. Guilt for existing without productivity. Even scrolling social media became painful. Former classmates posting promotions. Friends traveling abroad. People celebrating milestones while he refreshed job application websites endlessly hoping someone would finally choose him. One afternoon, after receiving another rejection despite reaching final interviews again, Paolo laughed bitterly alone inside his room. Then quietly whispered to himself: “Baka mas may chance pa akong manalo sa lotto.” And honestly, part of him believed it. Because adulthood becomes terrifying when effort no longer guarantees stability. Paolo worked hard. Studied properly. Built experience. Prepared for interviews. Yet somehow survival still felt uncertain. That realization exhausted him more than rejection itself. Later that evening, while updating his application tracker again, Paolo noticed something strange. Despite everything, he was still applying. Still trying. Still attending interviews. Still waking up every morning searching for opportunities despite constant disappointment. Maybe resilience does not always look inspiring. Sometimes resilience looks like exhausted people continuing anyway because they have no choice. And maybe that quiet persistence deserves more credit than the world usually gives it.