What happened, you asked?Well… I don't quite know myself.
It is the year 2054—six years since something named The Great Mental Collapse ruined humanity. And now… nothing is left of it again. Humanity walks like a ghost in this world. We still exist, but we don't know why.
July 2042
Well, this all began twelve years ago—on paper.But in reality, it was always there.Humanity was always going to be doomed.
But around this time, countries still existed.War and everything else still existed.
Hello, my name is Hana Morimoto, the voice recording began, slightly static, and I am a psychologist… and YouTuber.
She sighed softly before continuing.
I've discovered something horrible—the declining mental health of humans, and how society is ignoring it. In the last twenty years, hikikomoris have grown from 1.5 million to 42 million people. Half of adults in Japan now identify as hikikomoris. Meanwhile, the global rate of hermits—the same thing, really—has grown to 41% of adults.
In total, 63% of the world now identifies as friendless.
And what are the influencers, psychologists, and celebrities doing about it? Milking it.
Her tone sharpened—anger buried under exhaustion.
In recent years, the rise of parasocial coping mechanisms has skyrocketed. Addictions have spread into darker places. Crime rates have soared. Misogyny and misandry have grown fangs. Even "friend coaches" now exist. It's all falling apart.
She hesitated before finishing, I fear if something isn't done in the next few years… we might have the Great Collapse.
Diary entry 008 — logout.
July 2054
So this is the diary of Hana, Noah Grayson murmured, scrolling through the old digital logs.
With the collapse of mental health six years ago, humanity had known no joy.Everywhere felt blue.
Work still existed—because people still needed to eat—but empathy had vanished.The world was a near-anarchy. Police existed but didn't do anything.
It would be better if the world just ended, Noah muttered to himself. If this crisis doesn't end… maybe I'll have to end it myself.
He closed the terminal and rubbed his eyes.
Noah was an empath, a rare thing these days—and that gift had twisted into a curse. His understanding of people had rotted into hatred for what they had become.
It's better to die than to live happily in this world, he thought. Happiness means ignorance now.
Noah had been working on something. Something that could destroy the world.And strangely… no one seemed to care.
In fact, everyone agreed.If mental illness didn't improve within the next eight years, humanity should end itself.
Twisted, right?But as the mental collapse happened… so did the moral one.
Noah left the underground tunnel and stepped into the fog-stained city streets of New York. The scene shifted—
New York City State Police Department
A beautiful girl stumbled through the station doors, bloodied and bruised.She had been attacked by dogs. No one had stopped to help.
When did humans become this apathetic? she muttered. Is it the new trend now—to not care?
She sighed and looked around. Everyone stared, expressionless.
This had been the state of the world for six years now. But here was the strange thing—she didn't actually know what had happened.
She had missed it all.
She had just woken up from a nine-year coma the year before.She had missed the Great Collapse.
Maybe it's a good thing, she thought. Perhaps I'm the only sane one left in this world.
Her name was Fathima AL-rawaab
What can I do to make everyone feel better? she wondered, smiling faintly despite the pain. One day, I'll cure the world of their depression. I'll be its personal therapist.
She giggled softly. I'll start with something simple—just walking. I'll walk to everyone I see and listen to them. Listening is the first step to understanding someone, isn't it? Yeah… I'll just listen to everyone. That'll make them feel better.
She stood up straight and announced, Okay! Let's go!
The entire police department stared at her. Like she was insane.
An hour later, she was regretting it.
How can you listen… when nobody wants to talk? she thought. They look at me like I'm a disease.
One man even ran away after she asked if he wanted to talk.She frowned. I only asked seven times…
But what really happened was far darker.
Layla had chased the man down the street—her voice echoing through the hollow city, pleading, laughing, begging him to talk as if she could save him by force.
When she finally caught up, he turned around, trembling—
And for the first time since the Great Collapse, someone agreed to talk, even though reluctantly, so