I don't know if this even counts as a confession, really. It’s not like I hurt anyone. Not directly. Maybe myself, I guess. But it feels… secret. And a little shameful. I mean, I’m a personal trainer. I help people get fit, you know? And here I am, doing something totally different. I feel like I'm not living up to what I tell other people. It happens after the last client leaves. Usually, it’s a quiet time, the gym emptying out. I'll make sure no one's around, then I slip into the locker room. My gym bag has a special compartment, zipped up tight. And in there, that’s where they are. Not every day, but more often than I’d like to admit. A box. Or just a paper bag, usually from the supermarket bakery aisle. Sugary donuts. The really bad kind. The ones I tell my clients to avoid. Maple glazed. Jelly-filled. Whatever looks good in the moment. I sit on the bench, sometimes in the dark, with just the dim emergency lights on. And I eat them. Fast. Like I’m afraid someone’s going to walk in and catch me. And you know, for a moment, it’s just… quiet. All the talking, all the yelling encouragement, all the explaining macros and reps… it just stops. It's just me and this sweet, soft thing. I used to paint, you know? I wanted to go to art school, really dive into it. But my parents, they said… "You can't eat paint, kid." So I got practical. And I’m good at this, I guess. People like me. They say I’m inspiring. Sometimes I think about my mom. She always wanted me to be happy. And I am, I think. Most of the time. But there's this… ache. Like something was missed. And these donuts, they’re not filling that ache, obviously. But for a few minutes, when the sugar hits, it just… distracts me. It makes me feel a little bit like that kid again, the one who just wanted to make pretty things, before all the responsibilities piled up. Before I had to be "the trainer." I don't know what I expect anyone to say. "Stop eating donuts"? Yeah, I know. It's not a big deal, I guess, compared to what some people write here. But it feels heavy. Like a little betrayal every time. Like I'm keeping this whole other life under wraps. And I wonder if everyone does that. Just has these secret little things they do, that no one else knows about, that make them feel… something. Even if it's just a little bit of sugary relief.