Am I the only one who looks at their life and realizes they’ve just become a high-functioning meat-shield for everyone else’s problems? I’m sitting in my car in the hospital parking lot at 2:14 AM, and the smell of industrial-grade disinfectant is literally vibrating in my pores. I just finished a thirty-six-hour stretch of being "Doctor" to forty screaming neonates and their even louder parents, and honestly? I think I’ve finally hit a state of clinical depersonalization. My hands are shaking, but not from the caffeine—it’s the sheer, unadulterated absurdity of it all. I wasn’t even supposed to be here.