Ceiling

Back

Ceiling

She's just woken up. The dim lighting of her room soft to her eyes. Rolling over, she gathers the blankets around her and looks down at herself. Smiling as she compares herself to a string bean or pea pod, she shifts her thoughts over again.

The words are hesitant to come. Depressed. It wasn't official by any means, a single therapist asking about it wasn't anything to worry about right? She turns over again and resumes staring at the ceiling. It didn't feel like it to her. After all, weren't people who were depressed sad all the time?

She smiles. Of course, I have tons of happy times! There are lots of days where things are going well, and things are looking up! The feeling inside doesn't seem to pass though. She tries again: I'm really lucky, I have some many things others don't have, I should be grateful. But the glow of her room which seemed comforting before now seems gloomy. Eyebrow's furrowed, she tells herself again: the doctor only asked! that's not saying I am!

Worried, she gets up and looks into the mirror. Staring at her own eyes for a minute blankly until starting to feel silly. What am I doing? Shaking her head, she stares herself down and opens her mouth.

"Are you depressed?"

The girl looking back at her face doesn't seem to give way. There's no tick, no slight sign one way or the other. Closing her eyes she asks herself again. Searching for an answer somewhere in her head. Everyone has ups and downs in life, she thinks. There's nothing wrong with that, it's all part of growing.

Opening and meeting her own eyes again she looks at herself. Would I be asking myself these questions if I wasn't?. A bit of mist appears in one of her eyes. Would I be asking myself this if that doctor hadn't asked first?. Briefly turning away she slumps onto the bed and hugs a pillow. Which one is it? Suggestion? Or reality?

comments powered by Disqus