"We're all a little broken but the last time I checked, broken crayons still colour."
These couple of weeks were the darkest days of my life. I didn't want to do anything, even the things I once loved, didn't want to talk to anyone, didn't even want to get out of bed. Every morning was worse than the last. I didn't know what to do. I was stressed, had anxiety and was overall confused. I knew I should talk to somebody about it but I didn't. The thought that I deserved to feel this way and that I didn't want to heal, wouldn't leave my mind. I cried everyday and would get overwhelmed at the smallest things. But I was cautious enough not to cry in front of people I loved as I knew it would worry them. But maybe that would've helped. One day, I lost control and burst into tears in front of my sister. My family was already sure that something was wrong by the way I had been behaving those days. My sister tried consoling me. When she asked me what was wrong, I had no answer. I had been asking myself the same thing. Soon, it became harder to control my tears. My mother found out and tried to help, all in vain. Then, one night, lying in bed I gave myself a pep talk. When all things failed, my own voice brought me back. Sure, I still find it difficult to keep my calm and I know I could fall back into that pit again, but I also know that I'll be alright.