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Unknown Number: What happened?
I roll onto my side, pulling the blanket up as I type.
Me: I came home to a disaster. Dishes piled up, food left out, the kind of mess that makes me wonder if I missed an eviction notice. She’s been home all day, doing nothing, and when I pointed it out, she just blinked at me like I was inconveniencing her.
Unknown Number: She sounds useless.
I smirk slightly, but it doesn’t last.
Because it’s not just the mess.
Me: It’s not just that. It’s…everything. I’m exhausted. I work my ass off all day, and for what? A paycheck that barely covers rent? A job where I’m disposable? A home that doesn’t feel like mine?
There’s a long pause before he texts back.
Unknown Number: You want to feel like it’s worth something.
I stare at the screen, my chest caving in on itself.
Me: Yeah.
The next message comes faster than I expect.
Unknown Number: I get it.
I blink.
He gets it?
Me: Somehow, I doubt that. You seem like the kind of man who already has everything figured out.
Unknown Number: You’d be surprised.
I chew my lip, hesitating.
Then—fuck it.
Me: I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been fighting for so long that I don’t even know what I’m fighting for anymore. I spent my whole life trying to keep my family afloat. My dad was…not great. My mom did her best, but she was always trying to clean up his messes. I worked jobs in high school just so we didn’t lose our house. And now I’m here, trying to make something for myself, and I feel like I’m still stuck in survival mode.
My hands shake slightly as I hit send.
I’ve never told anyone this.
Not even my friends.
But somehow, it’s easier to type it out to a faceless stranger in the dark.
A minute passes. Then?—
Unknown Number: Survival mode is hard to turn off. But you’re not just surviving. You’re moving forward.
I let out a slow breath.
Me: I don’t feel like it.
Unknown Number: That’s because you’re in the middle of it. You won’t see it now, but one day, you’ll look back and realize just how far you’ve come.
Something shifts in my chest.