I’m standing here with this plastic cup of lukewarm Chardonnay and I want to scream. It’s 8:43 PM and I’ve been awake since 5:15 AM because my mom needed her nebulizer and the pharmacy messed up the refill again. I had to call them six times. Six. Times. Now I’m at this networking mixer and some guy with a beard is telling me about his "creative process" while I’m literally counting the minutes until I have to go home and change a bandage. I have three business cards in my pocket that I don’t even want. I don’t even care about the font on his stupid website. I just want to go to sleep. Everyone thinks I’m so "pulled together" because I’m 20 and I’ve got my own clients. They see the social media posts of my desk and the clean lines and the cool mockups. They don't see the pile of medical bills I’m sorting through at 1 AM or the fact that I haven't slept more than four hours in a row since August. I spent four hours today fixing a logo for a client who complained about a $50 invoice, then I spent two hours cleaning vomit out of the hallway carpet. That’s my life. That’s the glamour of being a freelancer. I’m a graphic designer for exactly three hours a day and a full-time nurse for the other twenty-one. I’m looking at this girl across the room, she’s my age, maybe a year older, and she’s talking about her weekend plans. She’s going to the lake. The lake! I haven't been more than five miles from my house in six months because what if she falls? What if the oxygen tank leaks? I’m twenty years old and I know more about insurance billing codes than I do about whatever the hell is trending. I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired of being the "responsible" one. I’m tired of being the one who handles it while my sister sends "thoughts and prayers" from her dorm three states away. I just want to be selfish. I want to stay at this stupid party and drink five more of these shitty warm wines and not check my phone every thirty seconds to see if the neighbor texted me that something's wrong. I want to talk about CMYK values and vector paths without my brain drifting to whether or not I remembered to buy the low-sodium broth. My back hurts from lifting her into the chair this morning and now I’m supposed to stand here and "mingle." Mingle for what? More work so I can pay for more meds? It's a goddamn cycle and I'm the only one pedaling. It's 2:12 AM now and I'm sitting on the bathroom floor at home because it's the only place with a lock where it's quiet. I can hear her snoring in the next room through the monitor. I threw those business cards in the trash at the gas station on the way home. I don't want to be a "rising star" or a "young talent." I just want to be a person.