You ever feel like you’re just wearing a costume? Like you’ve somehow tricked everyone into thinking you’re a real person who knows how to do things like pay a mortgage and use a LinkedIn account? It’s that feeling when you're 21 and you’re sitting in a board meeting pretending you care about "quarterly deliverables" while everyone else is twice your age. You just nod and try not to look like you’re actually three kids in a trench coat. It’s exhausting, you know? I bought this place six months ago because I thought it was what I was SUPPOSED to do. I’m the "responsible one." My friends from school are out there doing shots in basement bars and I’m worried about my credit score and whether my lawn looks okay. But honestly? I’m just faking it. I don't know how a house works. I don’t know what any of the buttons on the furnace do. And when I saw that little yellow circle on the hallway ceiling... I just decided it wasn't there. It was tiny at first. Like someone had just spilled a bit of coffee on the white paint. You tell yourself it’s nothing. You’re like, "Oh, it’s just the humidity," or "Maybe I just never noticed that mark when I moved in." But the thing is, I don't have an upstairs neighbor. It's just the roof. I knew that. I totally knew that deep down, but I had this big performance review coming up and I didn't want to deal with a "problem." So I just... ignored it. Every morning I’d walk under it on my way to the office, carrying my little leather bag and wearing my ironed shirt. I’d look up for a split second, see it had grown an inch, and then just walk out the door. It’s like when you see an email from your boss that looks scary and you just mark it as unread and hope it disappears? That was me and my ceiling. I actually started leaving the hallway light off so I wouldn’t have to see it in the dark. GENIUS, right? Then it started to get weird. The paint began to bubble. It looked like... have you ever seen a blister? It was like a giant, gross blister hanging over my head. And it started to smell. Not like a bad smell, just... damp. Like a basement or an old towel you forgot in your gym bag. I’d be on these long Zoom calls talking about "efficiency metrics" and "streamlining the workflow" while this wet, moldy thing was literally three feet away from my desk. I’m laughing now because if I don’t, I’m gonna actually lose it. Last Tuesday it rained. I mean, it really POURED. I was sitting on the sofa trying to finish this spreadsheet for my manager—who’s a total nightmare, by the way—and I heard this sound. Plip. Plip. Plip. It was rhythmic, you know? Like a ticking clock but wetter. I didn’t even get up. I just sat there and thought, "If I don't look at it, it’s not happening." I actually turned the TV volume up. Like that was going to solve a literal hole in my house. Then there was this CRACK. It wasn't even that loud, just a dull, heavy thud. I walked into the hallway and there it was. A huge chunk of the drywall had just... surrendered. It was all over the floor. Gray, mushy, disgusting pieces of my house. And the water was just coming down in a steady stream, right onto the hardwood floors I spent three weekends staining. I just stood there. I didn't even move. I just looked at this huge, gaping hole and thought, "Well, I guess I have to deal with that now." My boss called me ten minutes later to ask about the spreadsheet and I just started laughing. Like, full-on Joker laughing. She was talking about "client expectations" and I’m staring at a literal piece of my roof on my shoes. I told her I had a family emergency and hung up. I’ve never hung up on her before. She’s probably going to mention it in my 1-on-1 on Monday, which is just another thing to add to the pile of garbage my life is right now. The guy who came to look at it today—this plumber who looked like he’d seen everything—just shook his head. He was like, "How long has this been leaking?" and I had to lie. I told him it just started. I couldn't tell him I watched it grow for three weeks like it was a pet. He quoted me a price that’s basically my entire quarterly bonus. My whole "grown-up" bonus is going into a hole in the ceiling because I was too scared to be a real adult and call someone when it was just a smudge. So now I’m sitting here in the dark, and there’s a plastic tarp taped over the hole. It flutters every time the AC kicks on. It sounds like someone is whispering in the hallway. I feel like such a fraud. Everyone at work thinks I’m this "on-top-of-it" young professional, but I’m really just a kid who let his house fall apart because I was too busy pretending to be important. It’s just... it’s a lot. You ever feel like the more you try to hold things together, the faster they just... break?