You know that feeling when you realize you've been living in a little bubble, thinking you've built something real, and then it just... POPS? I think maybe I just had one of those moments tonight, sitting here at 2:17 AM staring at a blank canvas I’m too tired to even sketch on. I don’t know if this really counts as a confession, or if it’s just me being stupid, but it’s been bothering me. For a while now, I’ve been teaching fitness classes, mostly private sessions, because honestly, that’s where the money is. It lets me afford my art supplies, my half of the rent, and maybe a little extra for food that isn't just ramen. And I thought I had, like, a good thing going with my clients. They're always so friendly, asking about my weekend, complimenting my hair, laughing at my dumb jokes when I’m trying to motivate them through burpees. Sometimes they even bring me little smoothies after a particularly GRUELING session. I genuinely thought we had a connection, you know? A real, actual human connection. But then... you see them out. Not at the gym, not in their sweaty workout gear, but out in the real world. Like last Saturday, I was at the farmer's market, looking for inspiration, maybe some cheap flowers for my studio apartment. And I saw Sarah, who I’ve been training twice a week for six months. She’s always talking about her cat, about her upcoming vacation, about how much she LOVES my playlists. We even talked about the market that very morning! I was pushing my little basket, full of maybe two apples and a bunch of kale, and I saw her at the artisanal bread stall. She looked right at me. And she just… looked away. Like I was a total stranger. I wasn't even wearing my uniform, just my regular paint-splattered jeans and that old thrift store sweater. It happened again on Tuesday, at the bookstore, with Mark. Mark, who literally called me his "savior" last week after I helped him finally touch his toes. He walked right past me, eyes glued to his phone, didn't even flinch. It feels… pretty CRUMMY. I guess I always thought that because they're so chatty, so warm, so interested in my life during our sessions, that it meant something. But then they need another block of private sessions, and suddenly they're emailing me at 6 AM, asking for a "special rate" because they're such "loyal" clients. And I always cave, because I NEED the money, and because I don't want to lose them. But now it just feels like they're being nice to me, playing the part, because they want a discount. They don't actually see *me*. They see the instructor who gives them a deal. And I don’t know if I’m mad at them for being... like that, or if I’m mad at myself for being so naive. For actually thinking that the friendships I was building were real. It makes me wonder if I'm always just going to be the "service provider," always just one-sided. And it’s a pretty isolating feeling, actually. Really, really isolating.