Sarah sits alone at 3 AM, her heart racing, anxiety consuming every thought. She's been battling depression for months but can't bring herself to tell anyone, not her family, not her friends. The shame feels crushing. So she turns to what millions do: she Googles. She asks ChatGPT for help. But here's what Sarah doesn't know: ChatGPT isn't a therapist. It's a generalized language model, designed for everything from writing emails to coding, not for the delicate, life-or-death complexity of mental health. Every desperate question she types, every vulnerable moment she shares, gets stored, analyzed, and potentially used to train future models. Her most private struggles? They're not private at all. The OpenAI CEO himself admitted it: there is no legal confidentiality when you talk to ChatGPT about mental health. In a lawsuit, her conversations could be subpoenaed. Her deepest fears, her darkest thoughts, all of it could be exposed. Terrified but still desperate, Sarah finally decides to see a real therapist. But now comes another nightmare: she can't open up. Years of hiding her pain have built walls she can't tear down. She sits in session after session, paying hundreds of dollars, unable to voice what's really wrong. The therapist prescribes medication based on incomplete information. The side effects hit immediately. Weight gain. Crushing fatigue. Nausea. Brain fog. Instead of feeling better, Sarah feels worse, trapped in her own body. Research shows that people taking multiple psychiatric medications face a 272% increase in appetite changes and 198% increase in debilitating fatigue. The very treatments meant to save her are destroying her quality of life. She switches therapists. Then another. Same walls. Same inability to share her truth. Same medication roulette with devastating side effects. Each failure deepens her shame, convinces her she's broken beyond repair. And here's the most heartbreaking part: Sarah isn't alone. Every year in India alone, over 47,000 people like Sarah die by suicide, many after failed attempts to get help through a system that wasn't designed for them. Globally, 727,000 people die by suicide annually, that's nearly 2,000 people every single day who couldn't find the help they desperately needed. The real villain? A mental health system built for a world that no longer exists. Generic chatbots that store your secrets. Therapists you can't trust with your truth. Medications that harm more than heal. Privacy violations that turn your pain into data points. In the United States, 14.3 million adults had serious thoughts of suicide in 2024. For young adults aged 18-25, that number jumps to a staggering 12.6%. These aren't statistics—they're Sarah's. Millions of them. So here's the question that should keep us all awake: In an age where we can order anything in minutes, video call across continents instantly, and access the world's information with a tap, why are millions still dying alone with their mental health struggles? What if there was a better way? What if privacy was sacred, not sacrificed? What if opening up felt safe, not terrifying? What if treatment actually healed instead of harmed? For decades, nothing changed. People suffered. Systems failed. Technology disappointed. But we saw a different future, and decided to build it.