Surviving In Israel: A Personal Diary

It’s strange how just making it could be this heavy.
Trying to survive in Tel Aviv, I burn through my days doing things that never make it into Instagram stories.

Washing dishes in kitchens with no windows — that’s what pays the bills.
Sometimes, I forget what weekend means.
I push forward because no one will do it for me.

This blog isn’t about motivation.
It’s about living without money — with no backup.
I write because otherwise, the silence gets too loud.

No one asks your name.
You wipe counters, and they walk past.
But here, in this blog, I get to say something.

Maybe it’s just for me.
But I put it online anyway.

You can follow the journey here: surviving in Israel

This is what it looks like.
Not designed for likes.
Just a man trying to survive.

On most days, I wonder how many people notices the ones like me.
We blend in, but no one looks twice.
In the hotel hallway before check-in, I don’t speak.

I don't hate this country.
It’s just the truth of my day-to-day.
Groceries for the week — that’s what swallows my paycheck.

Sometimes I dream that anonymous blog might matter.
Nobody paid me to post.
It’s just a record.

People say "just work harder", like life is a checklist.
They’ve never carried crates until their arms go numb.

Still, this blog is mine.
Even if nobody reads, it stays.

anonymous blog — that’s where it all is.
A photo of an empty lunchbox — everything honest.

No branding.
Just a man refusing to fade away.

There are days when I can’t remember how many weeks passed.
Running on broken sleep turns everything into repetition.
Every day feels the same.

I get home when it’s dark.
My fingers hurt, but I’m still writing.
This blog remind me that someone like me has a voice.

Israel is beautiful, but beauty doesn’t pay the bills.
They take selfies in Jaffa, but we’re mopping behind them.

I’m not bitter.
Sometimes I laugh.
That keeps me going.

School doesn’t prepare you what it means to share a room with strangers.
But here we are.
And maybe that’s what this is for.

You can read more, visit: blog by johnykosinsky

It’s not SEO-friendly.
But it’s real.
And maybe that’s enough.

They imagine poverty as tragic.
But it’s boring.
It’s staring at the ceiling before work.

You don’t get applause for showing up to clean bathrooms.
But you do it anyway.

Sometimes I want to stop writing.
But then I get a message.
And I remember: this blog is proof I’m still here.

blog by johnykosinsky is the only thing I own.
No ads.
Just a man with tired hands and too many shifts.

This isn’t content.
It’s surviving.

Some are empty.
That’s what being ignored does to your brain.

I still post, because I promised myself I would.

Maybe this blog won’t be remembered, but while it’s here — it’s true.

If you’ve ever wondered if anyone else is struggling — this is for you.
Not to teach.
Just to say: You’re not alone.

So if you want to read more, it’s all here: blog by johnykosinsky
Unfiltered.
But alive.