Okay so I bought a house. Finally. After all these years, renting in tiny apartments, moving every couple years when the rent went up too much, the landlord decided to sell, whatever. Always the excuse, always the reason to just keep treading water, you know? And everyone was so proud of me, all my friends, my sisters, like I finally did it, I finally bought a piece of the city before it swallowed us all whole. And it’s not much, it’s tiny, needs a lot of work, but it’s mine. MY grass, MY little patch of dirt and concrete. I thought it would feel… different. More like an accomplishment. Like I’d finally arrived, you know? The finish line, something to show for all the years of working and scrimping and saying no to things. But then I look at his yard. This guy across the street, not even the next house over, just directly across. His lawn is like a carpet, seriously, a golf course. And the flower beds, all these perfect little shrubs, every single one trimmed just so, not a single petal out of place. It’s a riot of color but it’s so… controlled. Like a painting almost. And mine… mine is a mess. Weeds, patchy grass, some sad little hydrangeas I bought on sale that are basically just sticks now. And I tried, I really did. I bought all the things, the weed killer, the fertilizer, I even watched a YouTube video on how to edge properly. But it’s still just… sad. A half-hearted attempt. It feels like a reflection of everything, honestly. Like this is what I have to show for myself, a half-assed attempt at a garden in a tiny little house I barely got my hands on. And I just watch him sometimes, this guy, out there with his little clippers, or his edger, humming to himself. He’s probably younger than me, looks fit, like he actually enjoys it. And I get this feeling in my gut, this churning, like… what did I miss? What did I do wrong that I’m only just now getting a house, and it’s still not enough, still not perfect, still looks like I just gave up somewhere along the line. My legacy, you know? A patch of weeds and a house that needs a new roof. It just feels like a giant, glaring sign of my incompetence, right there for everyone to see. Like I failed at the basic adulting thing, this whole… living thing. And I don’t even know what to do about it. Just stare at his perfect green grass and feel this emptiness.