You know that feeling when it’s 2 AM and the baby finally stopped screaming and you should be sleeping but you’re just staring at your phone instead? You’re sitting on the floor in the hallway because the light from the living room makes you feel like you still have chores to do and your eyes are burning but you can’t stop scrolling through those pictures of the aesthetic moms. Everything is white and wood and there isn’t a single plastic toy in sight and you look down at your own lap and there’s a half-eaten piece of crusty grilled cheese stuck to your leggings and you just want to throw the phone across the room but you don’t because it’s the only thing connecting you to the actual world. Sometimes you just look at these women who have their lives together and they have these playrooms that look like a museum and every single toy is organized by color and they have these little labels on wicker baskets and you look at your living room and it’s just a sea of bright pink and blue plastic that makes noise when you step on it and the carpet has a stain from three months ago that won’t come out no matter how hard you scrub it. And you start thinking that you’re failing them because your kid doesn't have a sensory station or a custom-built indoor slide and they’re just playing with a cardboard box and a remote control that doesn't have batteries in it anymore and it makes you feel like absolute trash. You spend every single second of your day making sure everyone else is okay and you make the bottles and you change the diapers and you listen to the same three songs on repeat until you want to rip your hair out and nobody ever asks how you are doing or if you need a minute to breathe. Но you’re only twenty years old and all your friends are out at parties or posting pictures of their outfits and you’re sitting here wondering if you’ll ever wear a shirt again that doesn’t have a snot stain on the shoulder and you feel so freaking OLD. You’re supposed to be in the middle of your life but you feel like you’ve already reached the end of it because your whole identity is just being the person who cleans up the messes and makes the snacks and keeps the peace. And then you see a post about curating a magical childhood and it shows this kid in a linen outfit frolicking in a field of flowers and you look at your kid who is currently sleeping in a crib that’s pushed against a wall with peeling paint and you just start CRYING. Because you want that for them so bad and you want them to have the magic and the beautiful things but you can barely afford the rent and the grocery bill is getting higher every week and you feel like a monster for bringing them into this tiny messy apartment where there’s never enough space for anything. And you try to organize the toys but there’s just NO ROOM and the baskets are overflowing and it feels like the house is closing in on you and you can’t even see the floor anymore. But the worst part is when people tell you to enjoy every moment because it goes by so fast and you just want to scream at them because how can you enjoy a moment when you’re literally drowning in laundry and your back hurts from carrying a toddler all day? You’re doing the work of three people and you’re trying to finish your classes online when they finally go down for a nap and your brain is just mush and you can’t even remember the last time you had a conversation with an adult that wasn’t about poop or sleep schedules. And you’re so TIRED but you can’t sleep because the second you close your eyes you start worrying about the dishes in the sink or the fact that you didn’t buy enough milk for tomorrow morning. You know that sound when a toy goes off in the middle of the night for no reason and it’s some happy little voice telling you that A is for Apple and it sounds like a threat because you’re so on edge? That happened tonight and I just sat there in the dark and let it play and I didn’t even move to turn it off because I’m just DONE. I’m done trying to make everything look perfect and I’m done pretending that I’m not drowning in this life that I chose but didn’t realize would be this hard and I just want to be a person again instead of a servant. I want to walk through my house without stepping on a Lego and I want to have a room that doesn't smell like old Cheerios but it feels like that’s never going to happen for me. And you realize that those moms on the internet are probably faking it too or they have money that you’ll never see in your entire life but it doesn't stop the ache in your chest when you look at your reality versus theirs. You just keep scrolling and feeling worse and worse but you can’t stop because you’re looking for a sign that it’s okay to be messy and it’s okay to be miserable sometimes even when you love your kids more than anything in the world. But you don't find it and you just keep sitting on the floor in the dark and the house is quiet for once but your head is so loud and you just wish someone would come in and tell you that you’re doing a good job even though the apartment is a disaster and you haven't showered in three days. It’s just a lot and I’m only twenty-one and I feel like I’m already a hundred years old and I’m so angry at the world for making it look so easy when it’s actually the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. And I know I’ll wake up tomorrow and I’ll do it all over again and I’ll smile and I’ll play and I’ll be the mom they need me to be but right now at 2 AM I just hate everything and I hate these stupid photos of these stupid perfect rooms and I hate that I care so much about something so small. But I do care and it hurts and I’m just sitting here waiting for the sun to come up so I can start the cycle all over again and pretend like I’m not falling apart in the middle of all this plastic junk.