Right now I’m short on my weekly rent. I don’t have any family to turn to—no backup, no safety net. It’s just me and my girl trying to hold on. I used to make ends meet doing Doordash but my car broke down a while back and I had no choice but to sell it. Since then it’s been week to week in a motel room trying to stay afloat. This shortfall could leave us out on the street with nowhere to go.

I’ve been pushing through serious malnutrition and am doing everything I can to get back on my feet. Due to my situation I’ve been surviving on the cheapest food I can get—things that keep me going but leave my body weak and depleted. I’m dealing with the long-term effects of poor nutrition and exhaustion and I’m trying to pull through. I just need some help getting to the next step.

I've tried reaching out across social media and Reddit groups designed to help and I've only been attacked and mocked. I’ve faced relentless attacks from every direction—mocked for my situation, accused of laziness, called a con artist, and told to just “get a job” like it’s that simple. I’ve been told I’m wasting everyone’s time, that I don’t deserve help, and that my struggles aren’t real or important. People have treated me like I’m less than human, simply because I’m asking for a lifeline in a moment of desperation. This constant judgment chips away at your spirit, making it even harder to keep fighting. It’s not just about money—it’s about dignity, survival, and trying to protect the person I love in a world that seems determined to tear us down.

Every time I reach out, I get slammed—called lazy, a con artist, a waste of space. People attack me like I’m asking for charity just to mess around, not because I’m fighting for my life and my girl’s safety. They don’t see the nights I lie awake, overwhelmed and scared, wondering how to keep a roof over our heads. They don’t feel the weight of every cruel word, the sting of being judged for trying to survive. It’s more than money—it’s my dignity, my pride, and the desperate hope that someone will see me as a person, not just a “problem” to be dismissed. That kind of pain? It cuts deep, and it’s hard to carry when all you want is a chance to keep going.

I care about my girl more than anything—she’s sweet, innocent, and means the world to me. Every move I make is about keeping her safe and protected from the harshness of this world. I’m not just asking for help for myself; it’s about making sure she doesn’t have to face those vultures out there alone. That responsibility weighs heavy on me, and it’s why I keep fighting, even when the attacks and doubts come pouring in. My priority is her safety and well-being, no matter what it takes.

This isn’t about some old patriarchal script or who wears the pants. It’s about a bond built on love and protection—me standing between her and a harsh world that shows no mercy. It’s about carrying the weight so she can have a chance to heal and breathe without fear. That’s not control or dominance; that’s survival, respect, and fierce devotion. This isn’t about some outdated idea of patriarchy or control. It’s about responsibility and love—me doing everything I can to protect and provide for the person I care about most. It’s not about power or dominance; it’s about keeping my girl safe in a world that doesn’t always show mercy.