Money shows up in conversations even when no one says the word. It’s there in casual questions about studying abroad, in the way people assume unpaid internships are “good experience,” in the silence that follows when a professor assigns a textbook that costs more than a week of groceries.
I nod along and change the subject. I say I’m busy when friends make plans that cost money I don’t have. I don’t explain that I’m calculating every dollar, deciding what I can afford to skip and what I can’t. While other people talk about opportunities, I think in budgets.
I work between classes. I take early shifts and late shifts. I do homework on my breaks and answer emails on the subway ride home. Even when I’m in class, part of my mind is somewhere else, counting hours and expenses, making sure I don’t fall behind financially as well as academically.
I don’t want pity. I don’t want lectures about budgeting or advice I didn’t ask for. I just want people to understand that college feels different when money is always part of the equation. When every decision has weight, and stress doesn’t turn off just because you’re in a classroom.
I’m learning how to survive quietly. How to keep going without making my struggle the center of every conversation. But I hope one day I won’t have to carry this stress alone—and that surviving won’t be the only thing I’m proud of.
