The first time I really contemplated suicide, I was a teenager, and there were two feelings, and only two feelings.
The first was an inexorable exhaustion, one that had been dogging me for months, had finally grabbed hold of me, and I felt I couldn’t escape it. No amount of coffee, sleep, friendship, or excitement for the future could break into the sheer weight of tiredness I felt. My body ached; my brain processed like it was in a fog. I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life moving the slowly, this lethargically.