You take your own life because there comes a point when nothing makes sense anymore. Not the euphoria, not the depression, not the chemical void the meds leave behind. It’s not that you want to die. You just don’t want to keep living like this. When the only options are pain or fog, death starts to look like the only open door.

There’s no real relief. You just alternate between being crushed by your own mind or numbed by the pills. And no one sees it from the outside. You tell yourself to hold on, that it will pass. But you know it always comes back. And you just don’t want to be trapped in that cycle anymore. It’s not cowardice. It’s exhaustion.