Tuesday, September 16, 2025

Some People Travel the World on Their Gap Year. I Stayed Home and Rot

3 Months Left of My Gap Year and I’ve Achieved Nothing but Tooth Pain🦷









Let’s not lie to each other. My gap year has been terrible. Actually, scratch that—it’s been a joke, and not even the funny kind. Like, who writes this stuff? Because if this is what adulthood was supposed to feel like, I want a refund.

Till today:

No job.

No pocket money.

No fixed income.

Nothing in my bank account except dust and disappointment.

No college or university acceptance email lighting up my inbox.


What I do have is anger, laziness, depression, and anxiety—basically a cocktail of emotions that nobody ordered but I’ve been forced to drink. My social life? Nonexistent. No dating (I thought I’d at least start by now—spoiler alert: nope). I’m always in the house, or at church, or at the dentist. Yes, my most consistent relationship this year is with my dentist.

And yet, I did get one thing I prayed for: braces. Yeah, the same braces that make people complain and cry about pain? For me, they’re a blessing. I can finally smile without cringing at my reflection. That’s huge. For once, I feel grateful. Shoutout to my sponsors—y’all saved my self-esteem.

But gratitude doesn’t pay bills. Gratitude doesn’t buy me clothes for my 20th birthday, or help me spoil myself, or give me the independence I wanted this year. I wanted to work, save, and finally treat myself. Instead, I’m sitting here broke, with a wishlist in my heart, too scared to ask my parents because I already know what they’ll say: “We don’t have money. Stop being ungrateful.”

So, I keep quiet. And every month my patience stretches thinner and thinner. People tell me, “Be patient, things take time.” And I want to scream, “I’ve been patient, where’s the reward?”

Three months left until 2026. Maybe it’ll end with a bang, or maybe I’ll just roll into the new year with nothing but these braces and a stronger sense of sarcasm. Either way, this was my gap year: not glamorous, not Instagram-perfect. Just raw, messy, and painfully real.

Because sometimes the “dreamer’s pause” isn’t about chasing dreams. It’s about sitting in the wreckage, laughing through the tears, and waiting for a miracle.

— The girl behind The Dreamer’s Pause


© 2025 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

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