One day, I’ll break out of this icebox, this tomb of deprivation and bleak uniformity. I’ll get to Snowglobe, where I’m certain my story is waiting for me—a story that I, and I alone, can bring to life. Inside my wheel spinning to nowhere, I can already see myself there.
Because if I stop believing in my future, I’m afraid I won’t be able to endure the punishing monotony and hopelessness of my so-called life. Not for another minute.