It was the summer of 2014, I was deep into A-level revision and my mornings all began the same way.
After breakfast, I would take two small, white pills. By the time I had showered, my heart would be beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of my chest.
But I’d ignore this and sit at my desk, where I’d often stay for four or five hours at a time, not even getting up to go to the toilet or eat.
The pills were Ritalin, a stimulant ADHD medication I had been prescribed two years previously.
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