So… last night. Big deal, right? My best friend, Mark, got engaged. Dinner party. Packed house. The whole nine yards. Everyone was just… glowing. And I was there, front and center, raising my glass. Toasting him. Wishing them all the best. Smiling like I’d just won the lottery. And inside… well. Anyone ever felt like a complete fraud? Like you’re playing a part in a movie, and the director keeps shouting “More enthusiasm!” into your ear, even though you just want to curl up under the table? Because that was me. All of it. The whole damn night. He’s been with Sarah for… what, five years now? Something like that. Met her at some charity gala he got roped into. Said she was beautiful, smart, laughed at his terrible jokes. All the stuff you’re supposed to want. All the stuff I’ve been looking for. Forever. I mean, I’ve tried. Seriously. The apps, the set-ups, the accidental run-ins at the grocery store that turn into coffee. So many coffees. So many “it was nice meeting you” texts that never lead to a second date. It’s like there’s a secret handshake I never learned. Or a memo that went out to everyone else, but my email bounced. Every single time. And there I was, clinking glasses. Watching them. Her hand on his arm, his hand covering hers. The way they just… fit. And I could feel it, this tightness in my chest. Not because I don’t want him to be happy. I do. He’s my oldest friend. We go way back. To terrible haircuts and worse decisions. But it’s just… It’s just that he’s always been the one to land on his feet. The steady job, the house, now the wife. The whole package. And me? I’m still hustling. Still pitching articles. Still wondering if this month’s checks will cover next month’s rent. Freelance life. It’s got its perks, sure. But security isn’t one of them. Not even close. I remember thinking… when I was giving that toast… my voice was just a little too loud, a little too boisterous. Like I was trying to drown out the other voice in my head. The one that was whispering, “This is it, pal. This is your life. Alone. Always.” Anyone else get that kind of internal monologue going? The mean one? And the worst part? The REALLY awful part? Is that a tiny, ugly sliver of me… just wanted it all to fall apart. For him to not be so happy. For some wrinkle to appear in their perfect, shiny new future. And I HATE myself for even thinking that. He’s my friend. He deserves all the good things. Every single one of them. But then I look at my own life. This tiny apartment. The stacks of unpaid invoices. The quiet evenings. And I just… I don’t know. I feel this weight. Like I missed something. Like I took a wrong turn somewhere, and now I’m just stuck on a detour that never ends. And everyone else just sailed right on past. So yeah. I raised my glass. I cheered. I hugged them both. And I went home. And now it’s 2 AM. And I’m just… typing this. Wondering if anyone else has ever felt that bitter sting. That mix of genuine joy for a friend, and that gut-punch realization that you’re still standing still. While everyone else is moving on. Building lives. Futures. Families. Is it… wrong to feel this way? To want more? To feel like you’re running out of time?