I am writing this from a hospital bed. A few days ago, I tried to end my life. I overdosed, and I am still here. That fact alone feels complicated—like something I don’t fully know how to hold. Part of me feels like a failure for not succeeding. That thought is hard to admit, but…

Right now, it feels heavy. Not in a dramatic way. Not even in a way that’s easy to explain. Just a kind of weight that sits quietly and doesn’t really leave. Some days, I don’t feel intensely sad.I just feel… numb. Like everything is muted. Like I’m present, but not fully here.Even small things take…