The Birthday Card on the Counter

Dear Delyara, The clock reads 12:50 AM, and I am staring at a picture of my nephew opening his presents that my sister sent to the family chat hours ago. I wasn't there. I was sitting in this guard car checking delivery manifests because I couldn't risk losing the weekend overtime rate. The guilt of constantly sacrificing these irreplaceable family milestones for economic survival is starting to rot my self-esteem. They think I am cold, distant, and obsessed with my business layouts, but they don't see the raw desperation that drives me. I am working myself into dust to build a wealthy legacy that can protect us all, but the immediate price is that I am becoming a total stranger to the people I love most. The weight of that realization is incredibly heavy tonight.