i can't do this anymore. another wednesday another steakhouse with the team and i just sit there smiling like i'm having the time of my life like i LOVE smelling burned flesh and watching them tear into it. i’m a vegan graphic designer i spend my days designing clean lines sustainable packaging for small businesses and my evenings pretending to enjoy a bloody ribeye i barely touch. boss thinks it’s "team building" a "tradition" for the "boys" but it's everyone even me and i have to go because he’s old school REAL old school if you say no you’re difficult you’re not a team player you’re not committed and i need this job more than anything. my parents sacrificed everything for me to be here in this country to have this chance. they say "don't rock the boat" "be grateful" "just fit in" it’s the oldest story ya know they did it they survived they bent and didn’t break for me to be able to bend further but here i am bending so much i’m about to snap. every week i make up a new excuse for why my plate is still full "oh i had a big lunch" "my stomach’s a bit off" "just not feeling meat tonight" — and they laugh they always laugh like i’m quirky like it’s a phase. my stomach is off because i’m nauseous from the smell of it all. i just want to eat a damn salad in peace or literally anything that didn’t come from an animal that was once alive. i feel like i’m living two lives one where i’m true to myself my values everything i believe in and one where i’m this charade this grinning automaton at a table full of men eating dead cows and i’m just… dying a little inside every single time. and i can’t say anything. i can’t. what if he fires me what if i lose everything what if it was all for nothing for what a piece of tofu a bowl of lentil soup. it’s not worth the risk. is it.