Some days I scroll through old photos and wonder who that girl was. She looked so confident. So sure of her future. I wish I could tell her what’s coming. That it’s going to hurt. That she’s going to cry in the kitchen with the lights off so her kid doesn’t hear. That she’ll fall apart — and somehow put herself back together every single time.
Crypto wasn’t supposed to be my lifeline. I thought it was a way to maybe earn a little more. But it became something else. A reason to learn, to fight, to believe I still had a future.
I still feel lost. But I also feel stubbornly alive. Like maybe the old me wasn’t fake — maybe she was just waiting for this version of me to show up.
