I’m struggling. Nothing is going as planned. The city is huge, noisy, cold. I work in fast food—endless hours for a ridiculous paycheck. I’m exhausted all the time. At uni, I try to focus, but my mind is elsewhere. The fridge is empty, so is my bank account. And the people here? Invisible. Everyone keeps to themselves.
Is this what being an adult is? Fighting for every crumb? If it is, I hate it. But I have no choice. If I go back, I’ve lost. So I keep going. Slowly, painfully, but I keep going.
