You know that feeling when you're just... sitting there... at 2 AM... and everything just comes crashing down? Like a wave. A BIG wave. That's me tonight. Every single weeknight, I hear about this kid. This twelve-year-old. Makes dinner, gets the other three settled. Every. Single. Night. Because dad works a second shift. Mandatory. And I just... I can't shake it. Sometimes you just… you look back. And you see all the things you thought you’d do, all the things you thought you’d be. And then it's just… gone. Poof. Like smoke. This gig work, you know? It's feast or famine. Mostly famine these days. No benefits, no steady paycheck. Just hustle, hustle, hustle. And you tell yourself it's FINE, you're free, you're your own boss. But really? Really you’re just… treading water. Barely. And you think about that kid, making mac and cheese for three little ones, probably doing homework, probably just wanting to be a kid. And you wonder if they’ll end up like you. Hustling. Just hustling. And you just… feel it. That gut punch. That feeling that you didn't do enough. Didn’t fight hard enough. Didn’t save enough. Didn't set things up so that SOMEONE else wouldn't have to scramble like this. So that a TWELVE-YEAR-OLD wouldn't have to be the grown-up every single night. I just… I don’t know. I feel… BAD. Really BAD. Like I failed. We all failed. And you just want someone to say it's okay. That you did your best. Even if you know, deep down, you didn't. Not really.