You ever just feel like… you’re watching a movie you’re supposed to be in? Like, you bought the ticket, you’re in the theatre, but the screen’s just… blank, and everyone else is reacting to something you can’t see. That’s what it feels like sometimes. Especially lately. You see the posts, right? The protests, the calls to action. The younger generation, they’re out there, absolutely RAGING. And you’re glad. You are. Because god knows the world’s going to shit and someone needs to make noise. But then you’re scrolling, and it’s all… new faces. So many new faces. Which is good! It means more people are joining. But then you catch a glimpse of an old clip, from ten, fifteen years ago, maybe even longer, from back home, and it’s all the same faces. The veterans. The grey hair, the determined set to their jaw. Your parents’ friends. Your parents. And you just… stop. Because you remember. You remember them. The uncle who always smelled of cigarettes and revolutionary pamphlets. The auntie who lectured you about workers’ rights while braiding your hair. They were ALWAYS there. They showed up. They organized. And now, seeing the new waves, you think… where are *their* people? Where are the ones who were supposed to pick up the banner from them? It’s not fair to expect them to keep showing up, their joints aching, their voices tired. They did their part. They did so much more than their part. And now it’s like… who is there for them? Who is holding their hand? And you feel this… this knot in your stomach. Because you *should* be there. You *should* be one of the new faces, linking arms, yelling until your throat is raw. You’ve been to the rallies here, of course you have. But then you get the call from *Auntie* about *Baba’s* blood pressure, or *Amma* asking if you’ve considered looking at apartments closer to the family, or your boss reminding you about that *critical* Q3 deliverable. And it’s like this constant centrifugal force pulling you in opposite directions. You want to be on the front lines, fighting the good fight, being the change. But you’re also trying to make partner, trying to make enough money to send back, trying to keep everyone happy, trying not to be the “selfish one” who “forgot where they came from.” Sometimes you just… you want to scream. Like, full-on primal scream. You’re not quite sure *what* you’d be screaming about. The unfairness of it all? The sheer exhaustion of trying to exist in three different cultural paradigms simultaneously? The guilt? Yeah, probably the guilt. Because you feel like a failure to everyone. A failure to the old guard, a failure to the new. And you don't even know what that feeling *is*. It’s not just sadness. It’s not just anger. It’s like… cognitive dissonance in the soul. And it just won't let up.