There's a specific kind of life that looks fine from the outside.
Steady job. Roof over your head. People around you. Everything in its place.
And that's exactly why it's so hard to explain — to other people, and even to yourself — why it feels like you're slowly disappearing.
Not collapsing. Not screaming. Just... fading.
You run through the rituals of the day.
Alarm. Shower. Coffee. Commut...
