The first time I experienced depression was during the summer of my first year at University. It should have been a time when the world was painted in vibrant hues, bursting with life and possibilities. Instead, it felt like my soul bore the crushing weight of lead. I had worked hard to get here and should have been happy, but I felt mostly empty and isolated.
For two years prior, the picturesque city of Oxford had been ‘home’. It was a place where the very air seemed to shimmer with knowledge and where I had found not just education but a family of kindred spirits.