I just... stood there. My boss, that smirking *puto*, waxing poetic about *my* fucking cantilever design, calling it "visionary" to the partners, and I just smiled. Nodded. Like a bobblehead. While I was home all day today, I thought about it, that this is what happens when you let your brain turn to mush, when your biggest daily win is getting a toddler to eat broccoli. And then I come in for this *one* thing, this chance to actually *do* something that matters, and it’s GONE. Stolen. And I let it happen. What does that even *mean* for us? For me? Like, are we just… supposed to be okay with it? This quiet erasure? My God, the guilt. The sheer, gut-wrenching guilt for wanting more than this, for even thinking I deserved credit, when I’m so lucky to have what I have. What is this life?