I know full well that this place is a meat grinder, but I don't dare leave. If I don't touch this, I'll be stuck with a dead-end salary of a few thousand bucks every month, and I can already see myself dying at my desk at sixty. Here, even if I have insomnia every day, pop pills, and see a shrink, at least I feel like there's still a faint, illusory hope of buying a house and a car, of living that "decent life." In this era where even hard work is depreciating, besides gambling on luck, I really don't know how an ordinary person can turn things around.