I’m starting to think humans, especially women, are just fundamentally bad at expressing desire. Not just *sexual* desire, obviously, but any kind of ambition that deviates from a perceived social ideal. We're conditioned, I think, to want what’s *acceptable*, what makes us good partners, good parents, good *friends*. And anything outside that… it just becomes this unarticulated hum beneath the surface. Like a low-frequency hum that only *you* can hear, and you know if you try to explain it, people will just look at you blankly, or worse, with that sort of pitying concern. My friends are all, like, deeply committed to 'work-life balance,' right? Which is great, genuinely. They talk about leaving work at 5, about protecting their evenings for their kids or their partners, about how their job is just a paycheck and not their 'identity.' And I agree with them! Intellectually, I mean. I nod along. I complain about office politics and tight deadlines just like everyone else. But what I don't say, what I *can't* say, is that sometimes, late at night, after my daughter is asleep and my husband is scrolling on his phone, I’m still thinking about design problems. I’m sketching out new facade details in my head. I’m wondering how to pitch a new client, or how to subtly restructure a project team to optimize efficiency. I actually *want* to be senior partner at my firm. I want the responsibility, the strategic oversight, the *power*. I crave it. And it feels almost… shameful to admit that out loud. It feels like a betrayal of some unspoken pact. I mean, I don't even— I don’t understand why that makes me feel like such an anomaly. Like, why is wanting that kind of professional attainment something I have to hide from the very people I’m closest to? Are they truly happy with their ‘balance,’ or is it another one of those curated public selves? Or am I the aberration? The one who missed the memo on what it means to be a modern woman? I don’t know. I just know that the gap between who I pretend to be at brunch and who I actually am in my own head is getting wider, and it feels… unsustainable. Like a double life, but the only person I’m hiding from is myself, mostly. And them, I guess. All of them.