You ever just get to a point where you look at everything you're doing, everything you've ever done, and it just… it makes you want to scream? Not like a little yell. A primal, guttural, I’m-going-to-tear-this-house-down kind of scream. It’s not a big deal, really. Just the usual. Someone’s always got to be the one, right? The one who actually answers the phone. The one who makes sure there’s food in the fridge, or that the little ones get to where they’re supposed to be, when they’re supposed to be there. And you just… you do it. Because who else? You know the drill. You rearrange your life, you say no to the things you actually want to do, you postpone your own plans indefinitely. And then someone, somewhere, will have the gall to suggest you’re not doing enough. As if you're not already spread so thin you’re practically invisible. This is stupid, but sometimes you just wonder what would happen if you just… stopped. If you just didn’t answer. If you just let that thing fall apart. Because everyone else gets to. The older ones, they’re off living their lives, apparently too busy or too important to remember they have family. No calls. No visits. Nothing. And then it’s just you, holding the whole damn thing together, working two jobs to keep the lights on and the kids fed because someone else decided they were done being responsible. And nobody says a word to them. Nobody asks *them* why they’re not helping. It's just you, always you, and if you even HINT that you're tired, you're the bad guy. You’re the one who isn’t pulling their weight, even though you’re practically carrying the entire load on your own. It's INFURIATING. And the worst part? You know you’ll keep doing it. Because that’s just what you do. That’s what you’ve always done. It’s ingrained. It’s like a reflex. You see a problem, you fix it. You see someone who needs help, you help them. Even when your own well is dry. Even when your own life is a shambles because you’re too busy patching up everyone else’s. And you just… you get angry. So angry you could chew nails. But you can’t show it. Because then you’re not the good one anymore. You’re not the reliable one. And who would want that? God. I just… I don't know.