Sometimes life takes you by the throat and refuses to let go. You struggle for a bit, you maybe compensate by not breathing in as deep to survive for a little longer, but eventually, it will destroy you. So, sometimes you have to sever that hand so it lets go.
I want to resign from the world. No, that isn't a suicide indicator, bur rather a description of myself. I'm a recluse--I just find people exhausting--and I like staying in.
And, to some, that apparently means that I have no life.
No, trust me, I have a life. It may not be glamorous, but it's a life.