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Crossroads. Mental health from two perspectives

I hadn’t slept in days, my mind was filled to the brim and my eyes felt like I had dumped a bucket of sand in them.  I lived in a hostel and had kept myself locked in my room, pacing the floor, writing my thoughts on the mural I had created in my room.  I refused to answer the knocks from worried room mates. I was sneaking out to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, for fear of running into one of them.

This article first appeared in The Shake, to read the rest, click here

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