Chapter One: Happy

Two months after I turned twenty-five.

Twenty-five. It’s that age where you feel the internal pressure to have it all figured out—the Master’s degree, the “decent” corporate job, and the stability of your own real estate. Yet, here I am, balancing a cleaning role at a major supermarket and navigating the streets for Uber Eats.

When I go to bed at night, I find myself staring at the ceiling, asking the heavy questions: “Are you happy? Are you happy with where you are? Are you satisfied with the progress you’re making?”

Sometimes, I try to voice these anxieties to those closest to me, seeking a sign that I’m on the right track. It can be frustrating when the response is just a “go to sleep” or a missed connection, but I realize now that overthinking at 2 AM is a solitary weight.

I’ve learned that being “in the wrong” isn’t about working casual jobs while holding a Bachelor of IT. It’s about the tension between who you are now and who you are creating yourself to be. I realize that these long shifts at dnata or Woolworths aren’t just for a paycheck—they are the fuel for the late-night coding sessions on Petal Push and the drive to break into the tech industry.

Maybe happiness isn’t the absence of the struggle, but the persistence through it.