I just— I don't even know why I'm typing this right now, it’s 2 AM and I can't sleep and my stomach still feels all twisted up. It was dinner tonight, a big family thing for Aunt Carol’s birthday, and everyone was there, all dressed up and quiet and polite. The kind of dinner where you gotta use the fancy forks and not talk with your mouth full, which is just like… whatever. Dad always makes a big deal about it, how we gotta act right and show respect, you know? Like we're always on parade or something. And I knew it was coming, really, I just had this bad feeling the whole day. Like a knot in my chest that just keeps getting tighter. He's been on my case about art school for weeks, ever since I told him I got accepted into the program, and how it's not a real job and how I'm just wasting my time. And money. But I thought tonight, with everyone there, he'd keep it quiet, you know? Just for one night. But he didn't. Of course he didn't. We were eating the roast beef, and Grandma was asking about my classes, and I was trying to tell her about the painting I did last week, a landscape with all these really dark colors and a storm rolling in, and it actually felt good to talk about it for a minute. And then Dad just… cleared his throat really loud. And everyone went quiet. Like a switch flipped off. And he looked at me, not angry exactly, but just… disappointed. That look he gets, like I’ve let down the whole regiment. He started talking about my cousin Mark, who's going into engineering, and how Mark is making "smart choices" and "thinking about his future" and "providing for himself." And I just stared at my plate. My stupid roast beef. I could feel everyone looking at me, even though I didn’t dare look up. I just kept thinking about my drawing, my sketchbook that I keep hidden under my bed, and how it feels like the only place I can actually breathe. But he just kept going, listing all the ways engineering is a "noble profession" and how art is… not. He didn't even say "not," he just kept pausing, letting the silence say it for him. And I just wanted to disappear. Like actually vanish from the table, from the house, from everything. My face felt hot, and my ears were ringing, and I could feel my hands shaking under the table, gripping my napkin so tight. It's like he doesn't even see me, not really. He sees this idea of me, this thing he wants me to be, a soldier or a something practical, someone who makes sense. And when I’m not that, it’s like I’m broken. Like I’m defecting or something. He kept talking about discipline, and duty, and how important it is to have a "clear path" in life, and how I need to "think seriously" about what I'm doing. And he said it wasn't about him, it was about *my* future, my responsibility. But it felt like it was all about him, about what he wanted, about how I fit into his idea of how things should be. And I just hated it, I hated him in that moment, but I couldn’t say anything. I just kept chewing my food, trying to make my face blank, trying to make myself small. It always feels like this, you know? Like I'm never quite good enough, never quite strong enough. Like everything I care about, everything that makes me feel like *me*, is just a weakness. And I just feel so ashamed of it, ashamed of wanting to draw, ashamed of wanting to create things that aren't practical or useful. Like it's some secret bad thing I'm doing. And he always makes me feel like I’m letting down the family, letting down the whole legacy of honor and service or whatever. I just don't know what to do. I got into art school, my dream school, and he just makes it feel like a mistake, like I'm throwing my life away. And I’m so tired of feeling like this, every single day, every day feeling like I have to fight for just a little bit of space to be myself. But I can't fight him, not really. Not face to face. So I just sit there and take it, and then I come up here and type into my phone at 2 AM, feeling like a coward and a complete failure. And I still don't know what I'm going to tell him. About going to art school. Or not going. It just feels… impossible.