You ever just… hit every single metric? Like, you meticulously planned out your life, achieved every material goal you set for yourself by, say, 32, and then during the holidays — the very ones you remember feeling so sacred as a kid — you just… feel absolutely nothing. (Not even sadness, just a blankness.) It’s disorienting. You go through the motions, lighting candles, saying the prayers, and it's like a script you’re reading, not something you *believe*. I mean, I don't even — whatever. It’s like a cognitive dissonance, where the external markers of contentment are all there, but internally, it's just… static. A profound absence of conviction. And the worst part is, you can’t explain it to anyone without sounding ungrateful.