Curly hair unwrapped and let loose past shoulders too prideful to admit that it all has suddenly become too much. Whitewashed walls and a mother feigning strength as she witnesses her daughter unbalanced and unhinged for the very first time in her twenty-one years of life.
So this is what burnout looks like?
Locking oneself in a bathroom cubicle, body slumped across the stone-coloured floor as you gasp desperately for air through the ordeal that is a very public and violent nervous breakdown.
Handing in a letter saying that you are dropping out of university in your final year, after promising your grandfather three years prior to his death that you would never take his many sacrifices for granted, and that you would honour his hard work by being the scholar that neither he, nor your grandmother, nor your father, nor your mother, was ever allowed to be.
Email alerts coming through every other minute, reminding you that you are necessary to the cause. You have commitments and obligations that you cannot turn your back on. You are indispensable and you are needed by almost everyone around you.