One moment I was doing stock and the next I locked myself in one of the bathrooms. I stared at my reflection in the slightly dirty mirror, water marks along the bottom of it. I gripped the sink tightly in a sad attempt to still my shaking hands. My vision blurred with tears. There was a single moment of silence before I finally broke, letting out soft sobs and shaky breaths. I spent a moment crying before cleaning up and going back to work. I don’t get paid to battle depression. It wouldn’t even be worth it if I did.
Rowan Moskowitz is a 23-year-old college graduate who has a deep love for writing, fighting every day to survive and make a meaningful life.