it’s not just a stomach clench like the bitter cortado sometimes gives me, it’s deeper, an internal repulsion, a memory of the grinding sound that used to fill my head, a constant WHIRR that i convinced myself was purpose, a symphony of success they called it, and hearing someone else echo that with a glint in their eye, not exhaustion but PRIDE, it just… it makes that old hollow behind my eyes feel suddenly SHARP again, like the edges of all those screens i stared into for years are reforming in my skull, and i remember the physical therapist saying my shoulder pain wasn’t just physical, it was the stress, the constant vigilance, the way my body was bracing for impact even when there was no visible threat, just the phantom weight of a deliverable that didn't actually exist outside my head, but it felt real, so devastatingly real, more real than the quiet hum of san francisco traffic outside my window now, more real than the cool glass of the cortado i’m not even drinking, and that ghost of a former senior project manager title, it just vibrates in my bones, a low frequency warning that some part of me still understands the allure of that self-destruction, still feels the temptation to step back into the CURRENT of it, even when every cell in my body is screaming NO.