I gotta just get this out, cuz it’s been rolling around my head for weeks and if I don’t say it, it’s gonna just… calcify or something. It started, like, a month ago? Maybe two. I was supposed to be doing a proposal for that new client, the one with the really fussy specs, and I was just staring at the screen. Blank. My brain just… static. Like an old TV trying to pick up a channel it ain’t got no business finding. And the deadline was looming, yeah, but usually that just kicks my ass into gear, right? Not this time. Just nothing. It was like I was watching someone else try to type, someone else’s fingers hovering, and I just couldn’t make them move. Remember when I used to pull all-nighters, fuelled by instant coffee and pure stubbornness, just to nail a presentation? Yeah, that was me. The one who could see the angles, the quick fixes, the way to make a shoestring budget look like a million bucks. And now? Now it’s like my brain’s just… on idle. And it’s not even a tired kind of thing, not like I need a holiday. It’s more like the engine’s there, the fuel’s there, but the spark plug’s just gone. Kaput. And I’m looking at these young guns, fresh out of uni, spouting all this new jargon, and part of me thinks, ‘Yeah, I know that already, I figured that out ten years ago.’ But the other part, the bigger part now, just goes, ‘Huh. Wonder what’s for dinner.’ Like the fire’s just banked down to embers, and I can’t even remember where I put the damn bellows. The other day, I was at the grocery store, just pushing the cart, and I saw old Mr. Henderson from down the street. He used to be a foreman at the plant before it shut down, real sharp guy, always had a joke, always knew what was going on. And he was just staring at the cereal aisle, totally lost. His wife found him, gently led him away, whispering something about ‘just a bit confused today.’ And I looked at him, and then I looked at my own hands, and I felt this… this chill. Not a cold chill, more like a dull, heavy feeling. Like watching a movie you already know the ending to, but it’s still kinda sad. And I kept thinking about my dad, how he worked till he dropped, never really retired, just… stopped. And the worst part? The REALLY worst part? Is that it doesn’t even scare me. Not in a gut-punch way. It’s more like a distant hum, a low thrum under everything. Like a broken fridge you’ve just gotten used to the sound of. I see my reflection sometimes, and I just think, ‘Oh, there he is. Still kicking.’ But I don’t feel like I’m *me* anymore. Just a… husk. Going through the motions. Paycheck comes in, bills go out. Wake up, go to work, come home, watch some telly. And I keep telling myself, it’s just a phase. Everyone gets burnt out. But then I remember staring at that client brief, that absolutely BLANK screen, and thinking… this is it, isn’t it? This is just what it feels like now. And the thought doesn’t even make me want to cry. Which is the real kicker, I guess. That’s the real confession.