Crying in the bathroom between classes—and feeling okay after.
CRYING IN THE BATHROOM BETWEEN CLASSES—AND FEELING OKAY AFTER.
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It’s one of those tiny details, isn’t it? The fluorescent hum, the sterile scent of industrial cleaner, the brief, stolen moments of absolute solitude. You’d just escaped a lecture, a club meeting, or maybe the crushing weight of an upcoming exam. The pressure built, invisible but immense, until a familiar ache settled behind your eyes.
You’d find that quiet stall. The lock clicked, a small, reassuring sound. And then, the tears. Not the dramatic, sobbing kind, but a quiet, desperate release. For a few minutes, the world outside, with its endless expectations and its constant hum of brilliance, simply vanished. It was just you, that stall, and the overwhelming feeling that you might not be enough.
But here’s the thing: after those quiet tears, something shifted. A breath. A wipe of the eyes. A splash of cold water. You’d look in the mirror, maybe a little red-eyed, but also… clearer. Lighter. Ready to step back out, to the next class, the next problem set, the next presentation, feeling surprisingly okay. Not fixed, not perfectly happy, but okay enough to keep going.
Those moments weren't glamorous. They weren't Instagrammable. But for many of us, they were anchors. Proof that even in the most demanding environments, it was okay to falter, to feel, and to emerge, a little stronger, for having allowed ourselves that fragile, private moment. These are the snapshots that stay, long after the diplomas are framed.