A few days ago, I watched a SpaceX rocket launch. Now, let us first appreciate the absurdity of human beings. We looked at Earth — a perfectly functional planet floating peacefully in space — and collectively decided: "You know what would improve this experience? Controlled explosions." And somehow, through caffeine, mathematics, sleep deprivation, and Elon Musk tweeting at 2:13 am, humanity has managed to make giant metallic skyscrapers leave Earth vertically. The rocket lifted beautifully. Employees screamed. People hugged. One man almost ascended spiritually. Another looked as if he had discovered purpose, meaning, and lower taxes all at once. Eventually, the rocket exploded over the Indian Ocean. Somehow, people still celebrated. Which honestly tells you two things: Engineers are emotionally different from the rest of us. Human beings can normalize almost anything if the company culture is strong enough. But while everyone was celeb...
Before you read: this story goes to some dark places — suicidal ideation, generational trauma, childhood pain, and the quiet despair that can live inside even the most successful lives. It is ultimately a story of healing and purpose, but it earns that light honestly. Take care of yourself first. Melvin stood at the edge of the building, hands buried deep in the pockets of an expensive coat that had never once succeeded at making him warm. The rooftop gave him a clean view into the lives of strangers—little illuminated aquariums of human existence. Across from him, in the apartment directly opposite, an introverted young man sat hunched over a glowing laptop, his face illuminated ghost-blue, fingers tapping with the desperation of someone trying to outrun himself through productivity. In another apartment, a couple sprawled across a massive sofa, laughing at something on television, the sort of laughter people carefully manufacture after years together so the silence doesn't be...