You know that feeling when you realize you never actually had a childhood? Like, you look at people your age now, people in my dorm who can't even figure out how to do a load of laundry without calling their moms, and you just want to scream. You spent your entire life being the "reliable" one. The "little helper." But nobody asks if the little helper wanted to be a helper or if they just didn't have a choice because if they didn't do it, everything would fall apart. It makes you feel like you've been old since the day you turned ten. Try being twelve years old and coming home from middle school knowing you’ve got four hours of work ahead of you before you can even think about your own math homework. My mom was always at the hospital—night shift, double shifts, overtime, whatever. I get it, she had to pay the bills and keep a roof over our heads. But I was the one standing over a pot of Kraft mac and cheese at 5:30 PM every single night. I was the one making sure three younger kids didn't kill each other while they tried to do their spelling lists. "Did you finish your sentences, Leo? Go wash your hands, Mia." Every. Single. Night. Sometimes you just feel like a ghost in your own life. You’re the manager. You’re the cook. You’re the one who knows where the spare keys are and which kid is allergic to what. And you do it all while you're still a kid yourself. You miss the football games and the dances because someone has to be home when the bus drops the little ones off. You learn how to stretch a box of pasta to feed five people and you learn how to lie to your teachers about why you're so damn tired in first period. You just get used to being the person with all the answers. And now I'm in college and it hasn't stopped. It never stops. I’m supposed to be out here doing my own thing but I'm still getting texts at 2am from my mom asking if I reminded the twins about their dentist appointment. I’m three hours away and I'm still the one holding the calendar. I’m exhausted. I am SO TIRED of being the person everyone leans on. If I don't pick up the phone, the whole house of cards collapses, and then I’m the bad guy. I’m the "cold" one. I’m the one who "changed" because I want to actually go to a party for once instead of FaceTime-tutoring my brother in algebra. You ever just want to walk away and not tell anyone where you're going? Just to see if they could survive for twenty-four hours without you?