A solitary tear rolled down my cheek.
“My father doesn’t care about me.”
“I can never be who my family wants me to be.”
“I thought of ending my life every day.”
I had no words. Wherever my voice had went, it had left me deserted.
Deserted among these people I thought I knew but never really did – and ironically felt closer to than ever before.
As tragic a truth as it is, depression is always the best at hide-and-seek. Hidden expertly in that one corner of the house you never check, found by the others far too late, when the fun and games have already long ended.
Those I considered the most social, the most outgoing, the most carefree, the happiest – they harbored demons like me?
But they were perfect. I saw them as beautiful and friendly and worth so much. Apparently, they didn’t see themselves that way, and it broke my heart.
We were anxious, insecure, grieving, bulimic, felt alone, unloved, suicidal, depressed.
But we comforted, reassured, came together. We made each other laugh till will cried and became a support system that would keep you from falling apart.
Tragedy brings us together in a way success or good fortune never can. Tears were shed, confessions were unabashedly shared, and our group emerged coherent in an altogether different way. We were all truly screwed up – flawed and cracked in every way imaginable.
But it was okay – because broken glass reflects the light in a way unbroken glass never could.
Shada is a senior at Somerset Academy in South Florida and the UAT Mentor for the House of Mazari. She was born in South India, and has since lived in Singapore, Minnesota, and New York. Her household includes her two supportive parents and a younger sister. Shada regards school as the highest priority, but also enjoys writing, reading, and listening to music. She is an active member at her local mosque, and loves learning about different cultures and engaging in intellectual conversation regarding the controversial issues our American society faces.