I swear to god I’m gonna lose it. Like really lose my fucking mind. I just pulled up to the house and my kid is asleep in the backseat, face pressed against the window, drooling a little, and all I can think about is how much I HATE my life. I mean, not my kid, obviously, I love them more than anything, they’re the only reason I’m still breathing most days. But everything else? Everything that comes with it? It’s a goddamn joke. You know how I spent my afternoon? Hauling cinder blocks, mixing concrete, getting covered in dust and sweat and probably asbestos, all so I can afford to keep the lights on and put food on the table for this little person who deserves so much better than what I can give them. And how did I get there? In that FUCKING PIG of an SUV. Eighteen miles each way, burning gas like it’s going out of style, which it IS, and every single mile feels like a punch to the gut. I talk the talk, right? Reduce, reuse, recycle, fight the good fight, save the planet. I’ve been protesting since I was in high school, volunteering, organizing, everything. And then here I am, driving a rusted-out, gas-guzzling beast that probably puts out more emissions than a small factory. Because what else am I gonna do? The bus doesn’t run out to the site. My old Civic died two years ago and I couldn’t afford to fix it, let alone buy a new hybrid. This… this thing… it’s the only vehicle that runs reliably enough to get me to work AND fit all my tools AND pick up my kid from after-school. It’s the ONLY goddamn option. And I just hate myself for it. Every time I fill up the tank, every time I hear that engine roar, I feel like a hypocrite, a fraud. Like everything I’ve ever believed in, everything I’ve ever fought for, is just… a lie. And I can’t tell anyone. Can’t tell my friends, can’t tell my kid’s teachers, definitely can’t tell anyone at work, they’d look at me like I’m some kind of monster. But what am I supposed to do? What the FUCK am I supposed to do when I’m barely making it, when I’m living paycheck to paycheck, when every single decision I make is about keeping this tiny human safe and fed and housed? It’s not a choice. It’s just… what it is. And I’m so tired. So goddamn tired of it all.