You woke up exhausted again. Not tired-from-a-bad-night exhausted. The kind of exhausted that lives in your bones. The kind that a full night of sleep wouldn’t even touch.

She skips meals. She sleeps last. She says “I’m fine” so often it’s become a reflex, not a sentence. And when someone asks what she needs, she goes blank — because she stopped tracking that information a long time ago.

I know her. I was her.