Growing up, I was fortunate to have every wish granted—from the outfits I desired to the car I dreamed of and everything in between.
I never thought of myself as being in the wrong place or coming from the wrong background.
In many ways, my life felt better than that of those around me.
Yet, beneath that surface of privilege, a lingering sensation haunted me.
It was as if the world were a trap, slowly enshrouding me in an endless loop that led to a path growing increasingly narrow.
I felt as though I had no alternatives for escape.
It was a daunting feeling: as if fate had carved out a tight endpoint for me, and all I could see ahead was a sword, precariously suspended by a thin thread above my head.
That thought was unsettling, a quiet reminder that even in a life filled with comforts, I could still feel trapped.
