I saw my dad looking at old pictures today. Like really old ones. From when he was a teenager. And it just... I don't know. It made me so mad. He was dressed up in all this Goth stuff, like, heavy velvet everywhere. And I remember him telling me it was the summer of '95, the hottest one on record. And he just *insisted* on wearing it. Like, full-on, head-to-toe black velvet in 100-degree heat. And everyone else was melting, but he was just... doing his thing. And I just kept thinking, man, you really got to just BE yourself back then. You got to wear whatever you wanted, even if it was stupid hot. No one was depending on him for anything important. He was just a kid, figuring stuff out, making dumb choices about clothes. And I'm here, twenty years old, and I feel like I haven't made a single choice just for me in years. It's always about what's best for everyone else. What can *I* do to make things easier for *them*. I can barely pick out a shirt without thinking, "Is this practical? Is this easy to clean? Will this annoy anyone?" I’m so tired. So so tired of always being the one who has to be sensible. Who has to think ahead. Who has to make sure everything gets done. My whole life is just... making sure everyone else is okay. I just want to put on something ridiculous and uncomfortable and just sweat my ass off for no good reason. But I can't. Because then who would make sure everything else doesn't fall apart? Who would remember that appointment? Who would clean up the mess? It's always me. Always. And I'm just so... jealous of that stupid velvet. That's it. I'm jealous of his stupid velvet shirt. God.