I saw it again today—my dad, chilling on the couch, wife in the other room. forty years married, still separate bedrooms. his excuse? light snoring. LOL. not even like, a *real* problem. just a little hum. dude probably snores less than my dog. and my dog is tiny. it just gets me, you know? my parents—they're supposed to be, like, the blueprint. the OG love story. and they just… don't sleep together. it’s not even a fight thing, not like they had some big blow-up and now they're pouting. it's just… a habit. a quiet agreement. a *thing*. and it feels like a big thing. like, if you’re not even sharing a bed after four decades, what ARE you sharing? bills? a last name? the same Wi-Fi password? I watch them sometimes, especially when I'm crashing there between gigs, and it’s just… flat. no drama, no sparks, no nothing. they just exist, parallel. two separate planets, orbiting the same sun. and I'm just here, hustling, tryna make ends meet, barely keeping my own apartment. I’m out here chasing a dream, or whatever you wanna call it, freelance life, no benefits, no real stability. meanwhile, my folks are just… coasting. separate beds, separate lives, same house. sometimes I wonder if that’s the endgame. if all this striving, all this trying to *connect* with people, to find *my* person… if it all just leads to separate bedrooms and polite conversation. it's a real mind-bender. makes you wonder if anyone ever *really* connects, or if we’re all just… pretending. like, what’s the point if you end up alone in your own room anyway? makes me kinda wanna just throw in the towel, you know? just get a pet rock and call it a day.