The Floor. This item is unavailable.The Floor

This is not a book about getting up.
Most books about mental health start after the hard part ends — after the breakdown, after the breakthrough, after the author found their way back and learned what it meant.
This book starts on the floor.
Bathroom tile at 2 AM. The car three blocks from home because you couldn’t make the last turn. The green plastic chair where you counted tiles for hours. The week with sixteen dollars and math that wouldn’t close.
Mike Pimentel wrote this from inside — while the weight was still there, while the floor was still warm from his body, while the distance between staying down and standing up felt like the only distance that mattered.
This book will not fix you.
It doesn’t try. What it does: names the places that don’t have names. The pile of clothes that maps days you can’t speak. The message with two blue checkmarks. The version of you that smiles through meetings while the floor stays closer than anyone knows.
Not to cure these places. To prove someone else was there first. That the cold of that tile has been survived before. That you are not alone in learning geography you didn’t choose.
Company is what remains when fixing fails