“You’re still protecting people who didn’t protect you,” he said. “Tell the truth.”
So I rewrote it.
The recommendations were even harder to ask for. I was not used to depending on anyone. But when I finally explained my situation, two professors agreed immediately. One of them said, “You are one of the most determined students I’ve ever taught.”
I carried that sentence with me for weeks.
Life did not pause to make room for the application. Midterms collided with work schedules. I memorized formulas while steaming milk and practiced interview answers while waiting for the bus. One afternoon, while carrying a tray of drinks, I got so dizzy that I dropped half of them and woke up on the café floor with my manager crouched beside me.
“You fainted,” she said softly.
“I’m fine,” I whispered, mortified.
“No,” she said. “You’re exhausted.”
That night I checked my account balance after rent.
Thirty-six dollars.
I ate instant noodles and stared at interview questions while the radiator rattled beside me.