I never thought it would end like this. Not like this.

At 22, I thought I’d have it together by now. I thought I’d have a plan. But now, with a backpack full of clothes I don’t even need and nowhere to go, I don’t even know what the plan is. My parents kicked me out this morning, their words cold and final, like a door slamming shut in my face.

“Get out,” my dad said, his voice stone. “You’re not a kid anymore. Figure it out.”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to fight back. I just stood there, numb, as they watched me leave—like they were watching a stranger walk away. Like I didn’t matter.

I thought about calling someone—one of my old friends, maybe—but who would want to help someone like me? I haven’t kept in touch with anyone since high school. They’ve all moved on, grown up, figured their lives out. I can barely keep a job, let alone find a place to stay.

I tried to walk, thinking maybe I could find a way to make it through the day. The sun’s still up, but it already feels like it’s setting on me. The streets are empty, people rushing past, and I feel like I’m invisible. My stomach’s growling, but I don’t have a dollar to my name. Not even a spare change.

I thought about going back home, but I know I can’t. They made it clear I’m not welcome. And I don’t know what’s worse—being kicked out, or knowing that I’m not even missed.

I found a bench in the park. It’s cold now, and the bench is harder than I thought. I pull my knees up, trying to keep warm, but nothing works. The hunger gnaws at me, but more than that, it’s the loneliness. It feels like I’m sinking, like I’m disappearing.

I close my eyes for a second, just to escape it. But I can’t. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. Where am I supposed to go? Who’s going to care?

The only thing I know for sure is that there’s no way back. I’ve ruined everything. And now, it’s just me and this empty city.