I just stood there, you know? Holding that goddamn champagne flute, trying to smile like I meant it. My face was starting to ache, felt like the muscles were tearing at the corners of my mouth. Someone was clinking a fork against a glass, yelling about a toast. All I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears, hot and loud. It was for a friend, that whole thing. A book deal. Their first one. We’ve known each other for years, since before we both had anything really, and they’ve always been good to me. Always there for me. And here they were, shining, all excited, talking about the advance and what they were gonna do with it. Meanwhile, my own damn manuscript is sitting on my desktop, collecting digital dust, probably judging me. Feels like a betrayal, that thing. A goddamn heavy stone in my gut. They looked at me, beaming, and said, "Can you believe it? This is finally happening!" And I just managed to nod, to squeeze out a "That’s amazing, I’m so happy for you." And I *am* happy for them, I really am. But another part of me was just… shriveling up. Like a plant that hasn’t seen water in a year. Everything inside me just went brittle. It felt like walking through a field of glass, every step just… grating. I just kept thinking about my electric bill, about the car repairs, about how many hours I’d have to work next week just to keep my head above water. And they’re talking about royalties and book tours. It felt like I was standing outside a warm, bright house, looking in through a window, and it was snowing, and I couldn't get in. I kept telling myself, *it’s not a competition, it’s not a competition*, but my chest felt so tight I couldn't catch my breath. Like someone had their hand wrapped around my windpipe and was just squeezing slowly. The party went on, and I just sort of drifted, nodding at people, taking sips of that bubbly stuff that tasted like disappointment. I snuck out eventually, mumbled something about having to get up early. Drove home with the windows down, even though it was cold, just trying to feel something different than that awful, hollow ache. And now I’m here, staring at this screen, feeling like a real piece of shit. What the hell is wrong with me?