I saw my youngest graduate med school last week. My baby. It was a huge deal for my family. For my parents. I mean, since I was like, five, it was all about one of us becoming a doctor. That was the dream. Our dream. We had to. For them. Back home, it’s a big deal. A really big deal. My older sister became a lawyer, so that was already a step. But a doctor? That was the top. The absolute top. So yeah, he did it. My brother. My little brother. Everyone was crying. My mom, my dad, aunts, uncles, cousins. Everyone was so proud. And I was too, obviously. He worked so hard. We all did. We helped him study, we gave him money, we pushed him when he wanted to quit. We all gave a piece of ourselves for him to get there. And he did. He’s a doctor now. Dr. [Last Name]. Just like they wanted. And I watched him walk across that stage, get his diploma. And I felt... empty. Like a shell. All these years, my whole life, it was all about this. About making them proud. About that one goal. And now it’s done. It’s over. And I don’t know who I am anymore. Or what I’m supposed to do. My whole purpose just vanished. What now? I just feel so lost. And everyone is so happy. How do I tell them I just feel... nothing. Or worse. Like I just disappeared.