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precavae.space
🛑 My name is Hanna. I'm 35. I live in Manchester, in the Moss Side area. I rent a room. Not a flat - a room. In a house with two strangers who, like me, can't afford their own place. I work as a checkout operator for a supermarket called Co-op. The job runs from 6am to 11pm. I do evening shifts. From 2 to 10. Sometimes till 11 if it's stocktake. About £11.50 an hour. After tax - around £1,550 a month. Sounds okay? It's not. Here are the expenses. Room rent: £580 (includes bills but no internet) Council tax: £95 (split with housemates, but they never pay on time) Internet + phone: £55 Bus to work and back: £70 (night fares cost more) Food: £260 (I barely eat meat because it's too expensive) Subscriptions: £9 (Amazon Prime Video - the only thing I have, and even that I share with a friend) Clothes and shoes: £20 (charity shops, everything) Medication: £10 (headache and allergy tablets - I use the NHS when I can but not always) Unexpected: £30 Left: £421. Feels like £421 is money. It's not. Because £421 is what covers everything I forgot. And everything that will happen tomorrow. And tomorrow always happens. I've been alone for three years. Since I split up with my husband Nick. He was normal. Didn't hit me. Didn't shout. Just stopped noticing me. I became like a fridge - it's there, but you don't see it. I left on my own. Since then - I'm alone. In the evening I come home at 10:30, if everything goes well. If it's a heavy shift - 11:30. The house is old. Doors creak. My housemates are guys who don't care. They blast music at 2am. I don't complain - I'm scared they'll hate me. And I've got nowhere else to go. I go into my room. 9 square metres. Bed, wardrobe, desk. On the desk - a 2017 laptop that takes five minutes to load. I boil the kettle. Drink tea without sugar. Stare at the wall. And think. I think about being 35. No savings. If the laptop breaks - I can't replace it. If I get ill and miss three
