Others see me showing off my achievements and think it's glorious, (thank you for your attention)
But who knows the struggles behind it
I hide under the blanket after the lights go out in the dorm,
Dozens of phones taking turns heating up until I use ice packs to cool them down,
For a drop tutorial,
I chew through English documents until four in the morning,
My eyes are as red as a rabbit's, and my fingers swipe the screen until they peel.
My family says I 'play with my phone every day and neglect my work',
Friends laugh at me, 'What money can you make from this?',
Only I know,
Every alarm clock at three in the morning is a race against time for opportunities,
Every repeated debugging step is patience traded for possibilities.
No one stays up with me through these nights,
Only the soft glow of the screen and the constant project notifications accompany me.
But looking back now,
Those days that were said to be 'foolishly struggling',
Are proof of my relentless fight with myself.
In 2004, we had little room for retreat,
If we wanted to make some noise,
We had to split the time when others were sleeping in half.
The medals behind the glory?
Are actually every dark circle from staying up late,
And the memos in my phone filled with rules.
