Stop the feeling

Change of scenery

The city lights shimmered below as I walked into the dimly lit bar, searching for my boyfriend who had been acting distant lately. A sinking feeling in my stomach told me something was wrong, and I was about to uncover a painful truth.

My heart pounded in my chest as I spotted him in a corner booth, laughing and flirting with another woman. The sight of him with someone else was like a dagger to my heart, piercing through the façade of our relationship and exposing the betrayal that had been lurking in the shadows.

Frozen in disbelief, I watched as he leaned in to whisper something in her ear, their laughter echoing in the empty spaces of my shattered trust. Tears welled up in my eyes as I turned away, the weight of his deception crushing my spirit.

The pain was unbearable, the future uncertain. Everything I had believed in and hoped for had come crashing down, leaving me adrift in a sea of heartache and confusion.

Desperate for an escape, I called my mother, seeking comfort and solace in her reassuring words. She had always been my rock, my anchor in times of stormy seas. I hoped that her wisdom and love would help me navigate through the heartache and find a way to heal.

To my surprise, my mother had news that would change everything. Instead of comforting words, she offered a lifeline in the form of an unexpected inheritance.

"Your granddad's farm," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "I think it's time for you to have it."

The farm? The idea seemed absurd, a relic from a past I had long since left behind. I had fond memories of spending summers there as a child, but the thought of inheriting a neglected farm was far from appealing.

However, with no other options and the weight of my recent heartbreak bearing down on me, I found myself reluctantly agreeing to take on the farm. It was a chance for a fresh start, a way to escape the painful memories and the suffocating confines of city life.

As I hung up the phone, my mind raced with a mix of apprehension and uncertainty. The road ahead was filled with unknowns, but it was also an opportunity to rediscover myself and find a new path forward.

With a heavy heart and a reluctant acceptance of my new reality, I made the decision to leave the city behind and embark on a journey to Stardew Valley. 

The morning sun cast a soft glow over the neglected fields as I arrived at my granddad's farm, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me. The farm looked nothing like the idyllic countryside retreat I remembered from my childhood. Instead, it was a patchwork of overgrown weeds, dilapidated buildings, and rusted farm equipment.

"Oh, fuck no," I muttered under my breath, disbelief and apprehension mingling in my mind as I took in the sorry state of the farm. This was far from the fresh start I had envisioned, and the daunting task ahead seemed overwhelming.

For the first few days, I felt like a hermit, holed up in my farmhouse, convinced that venturing into Pelican Town would result in me being mistaken for a scarecrow due to my disheveled appearance.

One morning, as I was attempting to coax a rusty tractor back to life with a series of questionable mechanical skills and a lot of wishful thinking, a knock on the door interrupted my futile efforts.

Opening the door, I found a parcel sitting on the doorstep, along with a note from Mayor Lewis. 'Welcome to Stardew Valley! Enclosed are some parsnip seeds and basic farm gear. Best wishes, Mayor Lewis'

I eagerly tore open the parcel, hoping the seeds came with a side of farming expertise. Spoiler alert: they didn't.

Armed with my newfound farming tools and a vague sense of optimism, I set out to plant the parsnip seeds. How hard could it be, right?

..... I managed to drop more seeds on my shoes than in the soil, mistook a hoe for a rake, and accidentally watered myself more than the plants.

After several failed attempts, a few mud-splattered faceplants, and a minor altercation with a particularly aggressive worm, I finally managed to plant a few rows of seeds. It might not have been pretty, but hey, at least I didn't accidentally plow up the entire field—small victories!

Exhausted and covered in a mix of dirt and defeat, "Well," I quipped to myself, "if farming doesn't work out, I've got a promising future as a professional mud wrestler."

who am I kidding what have I gotten myself into.