I still have to work hard

It’s been four months since the election—since we ushered in a new president—and everything has felt off ever since. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s not. But I’ve been living in a strange blur, spending month after month searching for a job, grinding for progress, only to realize the very person I blocked out of my life—the one I tried to forget—ended up being the one to help open the door to my next chapter: my PhD. Life is twisted like that. All around me, people are getting laid off, careers are crumbling, and the market feels like it's collapsing in slow motion. But the truth that hit me the hardest? The job I was so desperately searching for was already here the whole time—I just couldn’t see it. If I had known this would be my path, I wouldn’t have wasted time trying to escape my old life. I would have stayed in school. But when you're surrounded by voices—parents, therapists—telling you not to go back, warning you about the stress, planting seeds of doubt, it gets to you. They were scared for me. But their paranoia overlooked one major thing: the job market isn't just dry—it’s barren.

Then came the moment that broke me further. I returned from a vacation only to lose something incredibly personal—pieces of myself, both literal and emotional, dropped into the street, scattered for anyone to pick up. I don’t know who has them, but I know enough to fear what they could do with it. I already have a gut feeling about the “who” and the “why,” but I’m still exhausted, still numb. I missed a class that could’ve helped me pass the FE exam—because I was tutoring someone else instead. Funny how that works. My effort helped them, not me. And to top it off, I accidentally exposed my most private thoughts—my quotes, my digital affirmations—to someone who didn’t deserve that access. Now they’re gone, vanished, and the worst part? They knew what they were doing. They cut me off the moment they got what they wanted. No goodbye, no explanation. And I can't reach out. That bridge is ash.

But despite all this, despite the confusion, the betrayal, the regret—I still believe this next chapter will be the best one yet. I still believe I can rebuild. I’ll keep working hard. I’ll keep showing up. Because I have no choice. Things have been weird—real weird—ever since that dude got into office. But I’m not letting that weirdness define me. This is my time now. I’ve suffered, I’ve learned, and now... I rise.