I don’t know if this counts as a confession, really... it’s more like a really irritating secret I’m keeping, I guess. I think maybe I’m just angry at myself, mostly. I’m a warehouse supervisor, right? Not exactly my dream job, obviously. I went to art school, and yeah, I know, cliche, but I really thought I’d be doing something… else. Something creative. But rent needs paying, and paint supplies aren’t free, so here I am, managing inventory and forklifts. And the crew... they’re mostly older guys, really good people, salt-of-the-earth types. Very, very religious. They have this voluntary prayer circle every morning before shift starts. Everyone holds hands, they say a prayer for safety, for their families, all that. I’m... not religious. Not at all. I mean, I respect it, totally, but it’s just not me. But I started joining in. Just because everyone else does, and I don’t want to be the weird guy who stands apart. I don’t want them to think I’m judging them, or that I’m some kind of atheist monster. I NEED them to like me, to respect me, because if they don't, my job is impossible. And it works, I think. They smile at me, they joke around. They even asked me to lead the prayer once, and I just mumbled something about being shy, and they laughed it off. But every single morning, I stand there, holding hands with these genuinely good people, reciting words I don't believe, and I feel like such a... a fraud. It’s just... it makes me so mad. Not at them, never at them. They’re just doing what they believe. But at myself. For being so weak, I guess? For not just saying, "Hey, thanks, but I'll sit this one out." But then what? Then I’m the outsider. Then they start looking at me differently. And I can’t afford that. I literally cannot afford to lose this job right now. So I stand there, eyes closed, faking it, and thinking about how much I hate that I have to do this, and how much I hate that this is my life right now. And then the prayer ends, and we all say "Amen," and I go back to pretending everything is fine. It just feels... really, really heavy sometimes. Like I'm losing a piece of myself for a paycheck. And I don't know when, or if, I'll ever get it back.