You ever just… wake up one day and realize everyone you thought was a friend was really just a placeholder? I’ve been sitting here for an hour, staring at my phone, waiting for a text I know isn't coming. It hit me a few weeks ago, after another Friday night spent alone with lukewarm takeout. The happy hour invites, they just… stopped. Like a faucet slowly dripping less and less until it’s dry. And it’s not even a big deal, right? People get busy. Their lives change. But when it's everyone, and the only change in *your* life is that you can’t afford an eighteen-dollar cocktail anymore, it feels a little less like coincidence and a lot more like a purge. I mean, I don't even — whatever. It’s not like I expected a parade when I got back from deployment, or even a medal for trying to put my life back together after… everything. But I always thought I had a crew. People who would stick around, even when things got a little rough around the edges. We used to go out every week, sometimes twice. I’d treat sometimes, they’d treat sometimes. It felt real. Now, they're still going, I see their stories on Instagram, all clinking glasses and laughing faces in those fancy downtown bars. And I get it, I do. My divorce isn’t exactly a party starter. I’m not exactly Mr. Sunshine these days, and my freelance work means I’m counting every penny. But it just feels so… transactional. Like my value was directly tied to my ability to keep up with their expensive habits. It’s just infuriating, you know? To put in the work, to be there for people, to actually give a DAMN, and then to watch them just… forget you exist the moment you can’t pay for the same level of superficial fun. And the worst part is, I feel stupid for even caring. Like, what did I expect? It’s not the battlefield. There’s no HONOR in civilian life sometimes. Just people looking for the easiest, most convenient option. And apparently, I’m not it anymore. It makes me wonder if I ever truly was.