But writing is different for me. There’s nothing abstract about putting my thoughts and feelings down, claiming them, and owning them. There’s no distance, no mask. It’s just you, laid bare on the page. And maybe it’s time I stop hiding behind the layers of abstraction, time I stand behind my words the way I do my art. Time to take ownership of what I think and feel—no more masks, no more distance. Just truth.

I’m still here. I don’t know how, but I am. And I’ll keep saying it: we need to talk about this. Not the sugar-coated version, not the whispers behind closed doors. We need to talk about the real thing. Because the silence, the shame—that’s what’s killing us. And not everyone makes it back from the edge.

Maybe that’s how it works. The end comes slowly, in pieces, until it all crashes down. Or maybe this isn’t the end at all. Maybe this is the beginning. Something new, rising from what’s left.