I was sitting in the corner with my cappuccino, going through looks for tomorrow's client, when two people sat down at the next table. Expensive watches, well groomed hands, confident voices. I wasn't eavesdropping, honestly, but in the quiet of the coffee shop, every word sounded like theater.

-"The car wash is 7 million, the engine is boosted, the 0-60 is 3.2."
-"Well, mine is more modest, but it has air suspension and a full leather interior."

They spoke with such trepidation, as if they were explaining the meaning of life. But when the phone rang, they both cringed and babbled, "Yes, boss." Their cars cost as much as apartments, and their time is not theirs.

I felt sad. We pretend to be the masters of life, but in reality, we are hostages to loans, status, and bosses. We sell ourselves for a position, for a like, for someone else's approval. I work as a stylist and see this every day: a beautiful exterior, but fear inside.

I don't want to be a thing. I want to be myself. Even if I don't have a fancy car. I have hands, eyes, and the desire to truly live. What about you?

Anna