The true breaking point isn't feeling angry; it’s the quiet realization that your mind has completely adapted to being a ghost. Yesterday, I went to wash my hands and accidentally caught my own reflection in the bathroom mirror. I stood there frozen for a full minute because my own face looked entirely foreign to me, like a stranger staring back from behind the glass. When you go weeks without anyone looking at you, acknowledging you, or using your name, you start to lose the concept of your own physical existence. Your mind detaches from your body, and you realize you aren't even a participant in this world anymore—you are just a ghost haunting an empty apartment, watching a shell of a person slowly fade away into the background
