The stars twinkle above, dancing with fiery poise. They seem to mock me, belittling my efforts, ignoring all I've done in favour of looking at the results. The pitiful results.

I'm not proud of where I am, but I'm proud of how I got here.

The only downside to my predicament is that they don't seem to care at all of the journey, only the destination.

It takes all my being not to yell at them, not to scream at them. At the unfairness. The unbalanced scales.

All of my work, all of my effort; gone. Gone with the simple fact that life is unfair.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

I hate how this world makes me want to hurl, how it makes me want to scream and cry and throw a tantrum. I hate how I want it to burn, how I want it to feel my pain.

But the simple truth of life is that it is unfair.

So, here I am. Standing outside a wooden shack in the middle of nowhere. With nothing but the clothes I'm wearing and a backpack full of notes. Full of my dreams. Full of my hopes. Full of my wishes and desires and ambitions.

Full of nothing but the aspirations of someone society discarded easily and without remorse.

I worked hard my whole life, but the second I step out of line, I get kicked out.

Thrown out and forgotten.

Now I'm forging my own path.

One they can't follow. One they can't learn. One they can't have. One that is entirely mine.

All mine.