One night last winter, as I lay in bed, unable to sleep, I decided to go for a walk around the pond north of campus. As I walked, the bitter-cold air piercing my clothes, I contemplated the emptiness I felt in my heart, the inability to care, and my frustration with not being able to feel anything. I was exhausted from living with a constant aching inside me, from having my friends and family comment on how sad and aloof I seemed, from being the person I had become. In the quiet of this cold New Hampshire night, I reached my breaking point.
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