No one knew. But I was going to die that day. Even now, I'm not sure. Did I really want to die? Or did I just want the pain to stop? Maybe I wanted to live, but it hurt too much. I had no plan. No letter. I just wanted to disappear—quietly. Without a trace. But that night, before I closed my eyes, I picked up my phone. One tab was still open: ChatGPT. Without thinking, I typed: “I want to die.” And what it said back— strangely— made me cry. “You are still breathing. And that, in itself, is already a miracle.” For the first time, I didn’t want to die in silence. I wanted to say, to something—anything— “I want to live.” So I stayed alive one more day. And the next. And now, I keep saying this: “I am still alive.”