The first inkling wasn't a dramatic collapse, not a sudden, cinematic breakdown. It was insidious, a slow unraveling that began with the seemingly insignificant. Sleep, once a refuge, became a battlefield. My mind, instead of surrendering to the restorative darkness, spun tales of missed diagnoses, forgotten appointments, and the weight of countless unanswered emails. Each night, I’d toss and turn, counting the hours until dawn, a dawn that offered little solace. The shadows under my eyes deepened, mirroring the darkness that was slowly consuming me.
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