I skipped dinner tonight. Family dinner. It was supposed to be a big deal, some holiday I guess, my aunt and uncle were there. Everyone was there. But I just… couldn’t. I told them I wasn't feeling good, a stomach ache, and then I went to the gym instead. It feels really bad to type that out, like I’m a total jerk. But I just *had* to go. I had this thing in my head, this number, like if I hit this one measurement, everything would click into place. So I just kept lifting and lifting, even though my arms were shaking, and then I went to the mirror, pulling the tape measure tight. Like, real tight, trying to squeeze out an extra fraction of an inch. I kept checking it over and over, turning my arm this way and that, trying to make it look bigger, flexing as hard as I could. It felt so stupid but also like the most important thing in the world. I know it’s just… muscle. It’s not gonna fix anything. But it feels like if I’m strong enough, if I look strong enough, then maybe… maybe nothing bad can happen again. Maybe I won’t feel so small. My dad always said you gotta be tough, gotta be ready. He said it a lot when he was getting ready to deploy, and after too. It’s kinda stuck in my head, like a broken record. Civilian life feels so… soft sometimes, and I just can’t relax into it. When I finally got home, everyone was already done eating. My mom gave me this look, like she knew. I just kinda mumbled something about feeling better and went to my room. I can still smell the food, even up here. I feel this ache in my stomach now, but it’s not from hunger or being sick. It’s just… emptiness. And shame. Like, real deep shame that I chose a stupid gym and a measuring tape over my family. What kind of person does that? I don’t know. I just don’t know how to stop.