The Shadow of the High-Vis Jacket

Dear Delyara, I am standing in front of the scratched mirror in the staff washroom at 1:15 AM, looking at my reflection in this heavy, neon-yellow frontline security jacket, and I genuinely do not recognize the person staring back at me. I spent years studying advanced organizational frameworks, marketing metrics, and business management theory at a top university, expecting to build an elite corporate career in the city. Instead, my life has narrowed down to checking fence lines and writing license plate numbers in a paper log. The loss of professional identity is a deep, throbbing ache that never truly leaves my chest. I feel like an actor who has been trapped inside a minor, degrading role for so long that he has completely forgotten how to speak in his real voice. The uniform feels less like a temporary job and more like a permanent sentence.