I don’t know if this even counts as a confession, not really. It’s more… something I can’t stop thinking about, something that just makes me so unbelievably angry every time it bubbles up. I think maybe it’s just the accumulation of everything, you know? Like, I went home for a week over the holidays, which was already a mistake, I guess. My parents, bless them, they just don’t get it. They don’t get why I’m still scraping by, why I’m not “making something of myself” with my art. As if wanting to paint means I’m not trying. As if I haven’t given up everything to be here, to even have a *chance* at it. But that’s not really the core of it. The core is my grandmother. My *Nan*. She’s almost eighty, and she called me the other day, asking if I was free to help her troubleshoot her “new gaming machine.” My heart just sank, honestly. I love her, of course, but she’s always been… a lot. Very particular. And my time is so precious right now, between the freelance stuff that barely pays the rent and trying to actually *make* my own work. I was already feeling so stretched thin, and I just wanted to paint, to not think about anything else for a few hours. But she’s family, right? So I said yes, obviously. I drove all the way out there, bracing myself for hours of explaining how to turn on a computer, probably. Except it wasn’t that. Not at all. I walked into her living room, and there she was, perched in front of this INSANE setup. Like, not just a computer, but a full-on gaming rig. Mechanical keyboard, glowing headset, a monitor the size of a small car. She looked up at me, blinking, and said, “Oh, good, you’re here. I keep getting absolutely *pummeled* in this ‘Apex Legends’ game, and I think my ping is off. Can you take a look? Also, I need help calibrating my scope for the Longbow. I just can’t seem to land headshots tonight.” I just stood there, staring. My *grandmother*. Playing battle royale. And not just playing, but talking about pings and headshots like she was twenty. And that’s when it hit me, this tidal wave of… I don’t even know what to call it. Resentment? Jealousy? She’s almost eighty, retired, living in this big house, with all the TIME in the world, and apparently all the disposable income to buy a top-tier gaming PC. And she’s just… enjoying herself. *Unapologetically*. While I’m over here, twenty-five, stressed out of my mind, working three different gigs, trying to make my passion work, and feeling like I’m constantly failing. Like I’m constantly disappointing everyone. I think maybe I even saw her score, and it was actually… good. Like, she was probably better than me. I tried to help, I did. I mumbled something about drivers and refresh rates, while she’s in my ear, “No, no, I think it’s the server location. They put me with all these squeaky-voiced teenagers, and they never revive me!” And I just wanted to SCREAM. What am I doing wrong? Why does she get to just… exist and enjoy things, while I’m clawing my way through every single day, trying to prove I’m not a total failure? I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s fair to be this angry, but I am. I’m so, so angry. And tired. So tired.