I used to think that if I just optimized myself enough, I could outrun the burnout. Turns out, the problem wasn't my efficiency. I treated my body like a machine I could upgrade, not a garden I needed to tend. All that biohacking just delayed the inevitable reckoning with my own humanity. I remember spreadsheets tracking every 15 minutes of my day, color-coded by activity. I thought I was being productive; I was actually just meticulously documenting my own slow-motion collapse. The data didn't lie, but I sure lied to myself about what it meant.