I did for a while. It never eased the existential dread of existing another day, so I eventually stopped once my therapist and I agreed that I could be a functioning member of society.

Talking about things doesn’t really do much for me. I’m extremely self-aware of why I am the way that I am, and it’s something I’ve come to peace with. I’m not necessarily unhappy, just content with living a very, very uneventful and short life.