I lost my prestigious New York City Gallery job on New Years Eve. I moved back to the suburbs of Chicago on January 1st of 2026. I was broken and shattered. My whole life was halfway across the country. I swore to myself that I would never move back in with my parents, but here we are. I am writing this whilst looking outside of the window I used to daydream out of a decade ago. My daydreams are not as pleasant as they once were. My dream of becoming an established photographer has now shifted to the dream of making enough to get out of my parent’s hair.

I wasn’t shooting in New York. I graduated college and started working full time immediately after. I thought maybe the prestige with my job would help my career out. It didn’t. 

Now I am shooting. A lot. I barely ever went back home during college, and afterwards while I was in New York. Memories are coming back to me now, I didn’t know I had some of them. 

I’m waking up before the sun is directly overhead now. I’m going for walks and embracing the light around here. I can photograph without fear of talking to one of my mom’s many friends around the neighborhood. Everything is okay.