I BET ON MYSELF
CHAPTER 1
Wake up. Go to school. Come home. Read manga. Sleep.
That was the loop. A predictable, almost sterile existence that defined my twenties. Ignoring the constant, dull pressure of financial debt and the creeping anxiety of final exams, it looked, on paper, like a comfortable, even enviable, life. An easily digestible routine. A way to simply exist.
I knew, instinctively, that this comfortable cycle wouldn't last. The moment I graduated, the illusion would shatter, replaced by the immediate, crushing need to find a job—a decent job—something I was woefully unprepared for.
But the problem wasn't the future; the problem was the present.
There was a malfunction in the system. A silent, grinding friction in the gears of my routine that had begun to drive me insane. I couldn't keep doing it. Every repeated step felt like a lie, every predictable hour a betrayal of some unknown potential. I felt like a balloon, steadily over-inflated, waiting for the slightest touch to make me burst.
I had to change it. Not modify it, but dismantle it entirely. I needed a different operating system. A life built not on external expectations or outdated societal norms, but on a framework free from constraints, where every challenge was set and met only by my own capabilities.
The old life ends now.
The ultimate gamble begins.
I bet on myself.