Ari’s POINT OF VIEW
Some weeks later, I finally had a place I could call mine. It wasn’t fancy or big, but it smelled like new paint and possibility. The first night I slept there, I cried quietly — not out of sadness, but because it felt good to belong somewhere again.
Days rolled by, and my routine became simple. Wake up, shower, eat cereal, then send out application after application. I’d sit on the little dining table with my laptop, typing carefully written cover letters, convincing myself that this one would be different. That this company would see my potential.
But every single time, the replies came back the same — polite rejections, or worse, silence.
I slumped against my chair one afternoon, scrolling through my inbox and groaning. “Why does no one want to partner with a per
