I always felt like the bad kid in my family when I was a kid. It was very clear that my parents liked my younger brother Daniel more than I did. When we moved into a two-bedroom house, Daniel got the big room on the second floor, and I got the dirty, empty basement.
But I refused to accept the way things were. I got a job after school and, with my aunt Teresa’s help, turned the basement into a cosy place to be. From the purple walls to the string lights, I put my whole heart and soul into every part.
But my pride didn’t last long. My parents made me start paying rent as soon as they saw what I had done. It hurt that it wasn’t fair, especially since Daniel didn’t do anything. Because I worked hard, I felt like I was getting in trouble.
That’s when justice stepped in. Aunt Teresa put me in touch with Ava, an interior designer who offered me a paid internship and maybe even a college grant. I felt seen and cared for for the first time.
As I did well in school and my internship, my folks’ views changed. They stopped asking for rent and began to enquire about my “little job.” I knew it wasn’t about them, though; it was about me.
When I got a full grant to Ava’s old school, I finally felt like I had been righted. Daniel’s anger and my folks’ silence only made me more determined. I left the toxic environment and the basement behind to start a new life full of colour, imagination, and a community that would support me.
I put as much love and care into decorating my dorm room as I did my basement. It was a sign of my sudden freedom. That bad things can sometimes lead to good things, and that anyone can turn their problems into successes with hard work and determination.
