The Invisible Backpack

Good news: I’ve finally figured out how to live every day with a 700-pound invisible backpack strapped to my soul! And the best part? Nobody even notices. I blend right in with the crowd — just another overachiever with great posture and dead eyes.

People often say, “You’re so strong!” And they’re absolutely right. It takes incredible strength to smile through a full-blown identity crisis while simultaneously punishing yourself for mistakes that happened so long ago they probably qualify as historical artifacts.

But don’t worry — I’m doing great.

Sure, I spend most of my day conducting silent reruns of all the things I could have done differently, better, or not at all. But who doesn’t enjoy a casual internal courtroom where you’re the judge, jury, and self-appointed executioner?

I mean, that’s normal… right?

Mornings are my favorite. There’s nothing like waking up with that sweet cocktail of dread and regret. It’s like an alarm clock, but emotionally corrosive. Bonus points if I remember that one time I hurt someone I cared about. My brain loves to play that episode on loop while I brush my teeth and pretend I’m not breaking.

And don’t even get me started on productivity. I’ve become an expert at performing life. You know the type — sending that perfectly polite email, hitting deadlines like a machine, maybe even offering someone a compliment, just to keep up appearances. Meanwhile, I’m secretly running a full-time guilt museum in my head. Tours available daily.

You see, guilt is a fabulous companion. It never lets you rest. It never gets bored. It taps you on the shoulder during your happiest moments and whispers, “Remember that one thing?” And just like that, joy becomes a crime scene.

Sleep? Please. Why sleep when I can lie awake and replay every mistake I’ve ever made with surround sound clarity and high-definition shame? Insomnia is just another opportunity to bond with your past, after all.

But hey, I’m functional. I even laugh sometimes - Mostly at myself.  Haha. Mostly when I catch a glimpse of who I used to be before I became this overly self-aware cautionary tale in human form.

People suggest I “let go,” which is adorable. I would, but I’ve welded this guilt to my spine, and now it’s basically part of my personality. Like a tragic accessory I can’t return.

Anyway, enough about me. I’ve got things to do, people to disappoint, and more guilt to marinate in. It's all part of the charm.

So if you see someone smiling a little too hard, laughing a little too loud, or staying just a little too busy — don’t worry. They’re probably just carrying their own invisible backpack.

And crushing it.