My name is Kylie, and every day feels like I’m carrying a weight I can’t put down.

When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I think about isn’t my classes or my plans for the future—it’s money. Specifically, my car payment. That car is far from perfect, but it’s the only way I can get to work and school. Without it, I wouldn’t be able to make a living or continue my education. Missing even one payment feels terrifying, because I know how quickly everything could fall apart.

I’m in college because I believe education is my chance at a better life. I didn’t grow up with extra money or support I could rely on. Every class I take adds to my college debt, and even though I try not to think about it constantly, it’s always there in the back of my mind. I worry about how I’ll pay it off while I’m still struggling just to get by now.

I work as many hours as I can, but balancing a job and school is exhausting. Some days I’m so tired that it feels like I’m running on nothing but determination. I come home late, barely have the energy to eat, and still have homework waiting for me. I try to stay positive, but the stress builds up quietly, day after day.

There are moments when I sit alone in my car after work, hands on the steering wheel, just breathing and trying not to cry. That car has seen my worst days—the days when I feel overwhelmed, scared, and unsure if I’m doing enough. I don’t talk about it much because I don’t want to seem weak or like I’m complaining. I just keep pushing forward.

I skip things most people take for granted. I stretch groceries, delay buying necessities, and tell myself I can manage a little longer. But the truth is, it’s hard. It’s hard trying to do everything right and still feeling like I’m one unexpected expense away from falling behind.

I’m asking for donations not because I don’t want to work, but because I am working—and it still isn’t enough right now. Any help would go toward my car payments and my college debt, helping me stay in school and keep my job. It would give me a little breathing room and a chance to focus on building a future instead of constantly worrying about surviving the present.

I don’t want sympathy. I want stability. I want to keep going, to finish my education, and to someday be in a place where I can help others the way I’m hoping someone will help me now.

Even a small donation would mean more than I can put into words. It would remind me that I’m not alone—and that hope is still possible.