I think we as a species are fundamentally addicted to the idea of a linear narrative. We want the beginning, the middle, and the inevitable climax of 'success' or whatever word we use to justify the grind. I was sixty days out from a partner track meeting at the firm. Sixty days of billable hour optimization and sleeping under my desk. And then I just... stopped. I didn't have a breakdown. I didn't have a 'moment of clarity.' I just felt this strange, physical rejection of the air in the building, like my body was a foreign object being expelled by an organ.