I'm sociable, I really am. Everyone I meet pegs me as an extrovert, the proverbial life and soul (burning bright but fast). I feed off interesting people like some kind of creature of the night, but afterwards I definitely need to recharge, assuming I haven't run out of battery mid-way through a party and am left standing paralysed in the full beam of small talk (or hiding in the loo, as above).
Thoughts of dying on the mountains fizzed through my mind. We'd been up here for 10 hours now and although the sun barely set this North we knew that if it got any lower the temperatures would plummet. Looking around at the cliff faces that dominated the small amount of visions we had I began to panic and once the gang saw that in my eyes I saw it spread to them too.
You don't just get over a crappy period to find the sun shining and people dancing around singing 'Happy Days Are Here Again' and drinking Pimms (unless you've joined a cult). Instead, mental illness is something that's lurking in the corner for that moment when you're a bit tired or hungover and generally a wee bit vulnerable.