Wir begleiten junge Menschen, die häufig aufgrund ihrer Biografie sowie aufgrund struktureller Benachteiligungen wenig Selbstwert mitbringen und den Glauben, dass sich etwas zum Positiven verändern kann, verloren haben. Mit Raum und Zeit, viel Zuspruch und kleinen Selbstwirksamkeitserfahrungen finden sie bestenfalls ihre Motivation wieder, um in ihrem Leben etwas anzupacken. Diese Prozesse werden mit viel Schnuuf, Zuversicht und Wertschätzung tagtächlich von unseren fallführenden Coaches und Familienbegleiter:innen begleitet, mitgetragen und mitausgehalten. In diesen Prozessen entstehen manchmal kreative Werke. Gerne teilen wir hier den Text eines jungen Erwachsenen, der von uns begleitet wird:
I need you to hear this.
Because maybe no one ever told you either:
You are good enough.
But let me be real with you —
I never believed that about myself.
Not once.
Since I was a kid, I thought I had to be extraordinary…
To be loved.
To be noticed.
To even matter.
If I wasn’t succeeding at everything I started,
What was the point of trying?
So I pushed myself to be the best.
Not to impress others —
But because succeeding felt like my only hope.
The only way I’d ever get out.
The dream of making a living from something that matters to me…
Comes with pressure that most people don’t understand.
And in a world that moves fast —
That wasn’t built for people like me, who question everything —
It feels impossible.
I want to be great at everything I try.
Not because I believe in myself —
But because I’m scared.
Scared of being forgotten.
Scared of being just another one.
Scared that I’ll waste my life.
And most of all…
Scared that I’ll never become the person I know I could be.
They say, “just be yourself.”
But what if you were never shown how?
What if, every time you were truly yourself,
You got punished for it?
There were days I couldn’t get out of bed.
Didn’t brush my teeth. Didn’t eat.
Not because I was lazy —
But because I couldn’t find a reason to move.
That kind of sadness doesn’t scream.
It sits with you.
Quiet. Heavy. Every day.
Even the smallest things felt like climbing a mountain.
In school, they told me I can be something one day.
But no one taught me how to be okay first.
School gives you the illusion of choice.
But when you’re labeled “stupid” your whole life
Just for not handing in homework —
You start to feel like a bug in a world of butterflies.
Like everyone’s flying, and you’re just… stuck.
That feeling? It eats you alive.
That’s when I started to feel behind.
And the truth is…
I actually was.
But only in their eyes.
Now I understand:
It doesn’t matter how they see me.
I refuse to let people who’ve never done what I dream of
Define what I’m capable of.
I have my own dreams.
My own desires.
And I’ll let no circumstance take that from me.
Because a human without purpose…
Is just waiting to die with their eyes open.
And that’s not how I’m going out.
I want to succeed so badly,
That I stress over the smallest things.
And maybe from the outside,
That looks like perfectionism.
But really?
It’s survival.
And maybe you think this is about money.
Or chasing fame.
But it’s not.
I’ve been broke.
I am broke.
I’ve had nights with nothing but tap water.
And I’m not scared to end up there again.
I don’t want money for me.
I want it to break the chain.
So my future kids don’t grow up how I did.
So they don’t feel what I felt.
Money is a tool.
It creates opportunity.
It creates change.
My mother raised three kids on her own.
We moved over twenty times.
She sacrificed everything.
My father —
A good man, but broken.
A war-traumatized alcoholic from Yugoslavia.
He drinks not to forget,
But because he remembers too much.
Watching both of them suffer…
Made me take responsibility.
I made it my mission to change that.
But carrying that kind of weight —
It makes every step harder.
Because I’m not just doing this for me anymore.
That’s why I’m not scared of failing.
I’m scared of living a life that never felt like mine.
A life where i never opend the doors i was meant to go trough trapped in a 9-to-5 I hate.
A smile I fake.
A slow death in an office chair,
Watching the version of me I dreamed about
Fade into “maybe someday.”
I want to build something that lasts.
I want to create something real.
Something that reaches people.
That one day makes someone say,
“Your work was part of the reason I made it.”
I want people to cry when they watch what I make.
Not because they’re broken —
But because, for once…
They feel seen.
I’m not doing this for clout.
I’m doing this
Because for most of my life,
I thought I wasn’t even good enough to begin.
I felt like a failure for throwing things away.
Until I realized:
My pain wasn’t weakness.
It was proof I survived.
I was diagnosed with ADHD.
But I don’t take meds.
Because I know I can do this.
Exactly as I am.
It just takes work.
And maybe…
Just maybe…
That’s what being good enough really means.
Not being perfect.
Not having it all figured out.
Not always winning.
But waking up every day with all your pain, all your doubt,
and choosing to keep going anyway.
You are not behind.
You are not broken.
You’re just becoming.
You’re good enough —
because you’re still here.
Still trying.
Still hoping.
And if no one told you that before —
Let me be the first.
You don’t need to earn your worth.
You were born with it.
Some people were born to feel too much —
so the world doesn’t feel nothing.
Luka R., 21j.
