I don't even know why I'm writing this. I just... I needed to say it somewhere, you know? Like, it’s been building up for weeks, months even, and it just got so bad today. It's about someone, a family member, and the whole... the whole situation with their job. They're doing really well, which is great, I guess. Like, really, really well. High-end stuff, big numbers, fancy clients. And I’m super proud of them, truly. Coming from where we did? It’s a huge deal. A HUGE deal. But it’s like... they've changed. Not just a little, not like, oh, they're more confident now. It’s... everything. The way they talk, you know? Like, suddenly every sentence has this... *lilt* to it, like they’re perpetually sipping something expensive. And the things they talk about. Pilates and bespoke this and that and some art thing that costs more than my car. And I just sit there, nodding, like I totally get it. But inside, I’m just thinking, who IS this person? It’s not them, not really. It's a performance. And I know why. I get it. To make it in that world, you gotta blend. You gotta play the part. I’ve heard them on the phone, changing their voice, adding those little 'darling's and 'absolutely fabulous's. And the way they dress now... it’s all very understated designer, you know? The kind where it looks simple but then you Google it and it’s like, a down payment on a house. And I'm just sitting there, looking at my jeans, feeling like a complete... alien. And they’ll make these little comments sometimes, about 'the old days' or 'our humble beginnings,' but it feels less like a shared memory and more like... like a story they tell to show how far they’ve come. Today was the worst though. We were at dinner, just us, and they were going on about some country club thing, like some polo match or something equally ridiculous. And they said something, like, "Oh, you wouldn't understand, it's a completely different milieu," and they said it with this little laugh, like it was a joke. But it wasn't. And I just... I felt this wave of something. Not anger, not exactly. More like... grief? For the person I used to know, the one who would have rolled their eyes at 'milieu' and just said "fancy pants." I just sat there, picking at my food, trying to smile, but it felt like my face was gonna crack. I don’t know what to do. Do I say something? Do I just... let them keep doing this? Because on one hand, it’s working for them. They’re succeeding. But it feels like they’re erasing themselves, or at least the part of themselves that was... real. And the thought of that just makes my stomach hurt. I miss them. I miss them so much. And I don’t even know if they’re still in there anymore. Or if they even want to be.