I’d always been an over-emotional cryer, but that year was a personal nadir when it came to mental health. I knew that I should stop and go home, but I couldn’t my feelings were huge and immediate the thought of being alone was unbearable.
I made the rounds of the party, rehashing my misery to anyone who would listen: how my ex had broken my heart, how I was certain that I was an unloveable failure, how I thought about killing myself. When he finally managed to extricate himself, I found his best friend and did the same to him. When I was 20, I cornered my ex-boyfriend in his bedroom during a party and cried on him for two hours, leaving a watery mascara stain down the front of his shirt. Join Longreads and help us to support more writers.Īnne Thériault | Longreads | September 2019 | 6 minutes (1,607 words)
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