I finally got it, you guys. The big one. A contract with a real publishing house. (Like, the kind you actually hear about, not some tiny indie thing that pays in exposure.) I’ve been hustling for years, doing stupid little commissions for like twenty bucks, sketching whatever people wanted just to keep some money coming in because rent isn’t free and someone always needs something. Always. And this was it. My big break. The one where I could finally, maybe, just maybe, make a living doing what I actually love. For once. Without feeling like I was stealing time from someone else. And I messed it up. I missed the final creative vision meeting. The BIG one. The one where I was supposed to show them everything, all the finished art, the whole package. I just… didn’t wake up. My alarm didn’t go off. Or maybe I slept through it. I don’t even know. All I know is I woke up to like seven missed calls and a super polite but definitely icy email saying they’d had to move forward without my final input. Without MY final input. The person who drew the whole damn book. (It’s fine, they said. Everything’s fine. But it’s not fine, is it?) I just wanted to sleep. For one night. Without someone needing me. Without having to worry about someone else’s schedule or appointments or if they took their medicine or if they ate dinner. Just one night where I could actually relax and let my brain shut off. And now… now I blew it. I blew the one thing that was just for me. The one thing I fought for. Because I was too tired. Too drained from literally everything else. And I want to scream. I want to just scream until my throat hurts because I finally got my shot and I fucked it up because I needed to sleep. I needed to sleep. And now what? What now.