I took a short nap and had a nightmare. Someone I’d looked up to like an older sister since I was little had committed suicide. She was an elementary school teacher—someone who had never confided her struggles to anyone. But when she died, I felt no sadness or anything else; I could only think, “She’s finally at peace now. Thank you for all your hard work,” and I couldn’t even bring myself to grieve. Maybe I’ve become completely cold-hearted, or maybe, deep down, I’ve given up.