Friday. 4:00 p.m.

The sun begins to dip toward the horizon as I drive westbound on the highway, navigating the familiar route home after a long, tedious day at work. My job, though straightforward, drains me of enthusiasm and is often marred by a hefty side of frustration. Just earlier this week, we concluded a Presidential election, and my party faced a disheartening defeat. A heavy cloud of uncertainty looms over me as I contemplate my future under the incoming administration and the labels that seem to define me.

To add to the weight on my shoulders, my rent is a week overdue, my hours have been slashed, and my wages are being garnished. It feels as though life is moving in reverse—a sensation I despise with every fiber of my being. Yet amid this storm of worries, my heart yearns for the freedom of flight.

As traffic thickens, I catch sight of the amber glow of sunlight reflecting off the contrails of airliners soaring in the distance, their silhouettes gradually disappearing into the vast expanse of the sky. This breathtaking imagery captures my imagination. I envision the flight crews—pilots and attendants—tending to passengers as they gaze out at the world below. My thoughts drift to the pilots, who navigate through a stunning tapestry of colors painted by the setting sun—vibrant yellows, fiery oranges, and deep reds overtaking the once-clear blue sky.

This fantasy ignites a flicker of excitement within me, and I lose myself in the thought of piloting a plane for real, not just in the confines of my home simulator. The longing to be up there, soaring through the clouds, grips my heart. I feel a pang of jealousy for those fortunate pilots gliding above me, living the life I so desperately crave. They are experiencing my ultimate dream, and this envy quickly transforms into a profound sorrow as I confront the reality that I haven’t flown a plane in a year and a half.

The pursuit of this passion comes at a steep price, and despite my intelligence, I struggle to find a way to make my finances grow or to earn enough to cover my expenses and fund the life I envision. I find myself living vicariously through endless internet videos showcasing other pilots in their element, spending countless hours on my simulator, pretending to take flight. Am I merely an imposter in this world of aspiration?

With each passing day, I feel the weight of time pressing down on me, and my self-esteem dwindles as this dream seems to drift further from my grasp. How can I bridge the gap between my aspirations and reality, aside from winning the lottery or resorting to a life beneath a bridge? What tangible steps can I take to transform my dream into a vivid reality?

I made myself a promise: no matter how long it takes, I will complete my Bachelor's degree in aviation and emerge as a commercial pilot, dedicating my remaining days to a career in the cockpit—living the life I’ve always dreamed of.

As I ease back into reality, gripping the steering wheel of my car, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the rearview mirror, adorned with the logos of my current employer. I can't help but wonder: when will my reflection finally reveal the person I know I am inside?