You know that feeling when you look around at 2 AM, the office completely silent except for your own keyboard clicks, and you just… seethe? Because you’re here, again, covering for someone who has a sick kid. Or a kid with a fever. Or a kid who just needs *mommy* home. And yeah, I get it – kids get sick, kids need parents. But you’d think that after the third late night this week, after putting in an extra fifteen hours of unbilled work because you’re freelancing and “helping out” means “eating into your own already precarious financial situation,” there’d be… something. Some recognition. Some tiny, microscopic shred of appreciation for the fact that your personal time, your life outside of this building, is also valuable. Even if it doesn’t involve tiny humans. It’s like, sometimes you just want to scream. I chose not to have kids, okay? I chose to hustle, to build this career, to pour everything into my work because that’s MY path. And it feels like a constant punishment for that choice. Because if you don’t have dependents, if you don’t have a built-in excuse to leave at 5 PM on the dot, then your time is automatically less important. Your plans are more flexible. Your evenings are free, right? To just… work. And work. And work some more. I mean, I don't even — whatever. It’s just this constant, low-level hum of resentment that I can’t shake, and it’s directed at everyone and no one all at once. And the worst part? The absolute worst part is the guilt you feel for feeling this way. Because then you’re a monster for not immediately sympathizing with a parent whose child is unwell. You’re cold, you’re selfish, you just don’t understand. But what about understanding *me*? What about the understanding that my life has value outside of being the person who picks up the slack? I’m exhausted. My eyes sting. And I still have two more architectural renderings to finish before I can even *think* about going home, probably to an empty apartment, and then doing it all over again tomorrow. It’s just… a lot. And I’m so DAMN tired of it.