Fragment from the She-Migrator series
Another week, in which I should survive. I have no idea how.
It seems that I am good for nothing, completely invisible to employers. If my stuffed peppers🌶️🫑 didn't turn out so delicious, I might completely devalue myself, because I have no achievements to hold on to.
I fight every day to preserve some dignity; otherwise, I wouldn't be able to survive. But what kind of life is that?
I can't understand life without autonomy, and after years of knocking on closed doors, I'm unsure which door to knock on, and I'm losing the courage to try again.
Underground Art & Literature - open access to culture 