The Backstage Story

WARNING: If you are happy with your life, do not read any further. 

That being said, let me tell you how harmless depression is. It is a blown up amalgamation of anxiety, sadness, fear, and trauma. It does not have a real identity. May be that should explain why it attacks your self-esteem and renders you with an identity crisis. But you see, depression itself isn't bad. Consider it as a spoilt child of an obnoxiously rich family. 

When depression befriends you, it makes you unconditionally attached to darkness and isolation. You will always find yourself better off without people. Any interactive move not made by you will cause you annoyance and irritation for any random reason. It is not always without cause, though. Gradually, at a really fast pace, you learn to live by yourself, keeping a distance from everybody possible. Well, the alter ego which, if decides to fight against depressed mind, will give in to isolation but will make you long for close company. The people you reach out then would be the ones you know you can trust. 

Trust is a major threat to depression. Trust is an investment between people to execute a relationship. As long as you can trust, you will let another person help you get out of ditches. Did I mention depression being a clingy brat? It will hold on to you so tight that you will be under the illusion that the presence of others is causing you to suffocate (which could be the reality as well). It will make you question their presence, validity, and requirement. Once your trust is dead due to stingy annoyance, depression finds its foundation. 

Since when you call it a home unless there's a building to a foundation? On the base of isolation cemented with distrust, it grows like a weed: wild, free and abundant. Like weeds depreciate crops, depression will breed feeding on your fear. The alter ego, still battling somehow, is bound to shrink on its defeat. The fear of losing more will further restrict you from making any contact. hence, you unconsciously prepare for a life in denial. 

Meanwhile, the agony of mental instability, mood fluctuation, reasoning compromise, physical illness and emotional break down will gang up on you. You wish someone would break your wall and drop you a rope to help you get out of the ditch (which has now become a well). If at all you are lucky, someone will try. The spoilt depression cannot bear this. It will use the enslaved you to burn that rope and hurt that helping hand. You will try to be clever: say something provocative. You will expect that the other person will say something to cheer you up and fight against you for you. Are you stupid? Don't people have their pride?! 

You don't just deny human help, but also start questioning your own existence. The alter ego is deprived of oxygen and slowly it dies out. That is when you know there is a gigantic glass palace of depression, outstanding your other minarets that ever existed in your life. Unless you are the Atlas, you can't carry that weight on you. You will clearly see your failure in that dungeon of depression; minarets are out of your sight. You are surrounded by darkness. You can scream; you will scream. As you are the one to push away people, they have given up on you and aren't around to hear your cry. 

That's it! You will call it a deal and snap out of life like it never mattered to you. People will cry for a couple of weeks and will move on with their lives. Wait, depression can be infectious at times, particularly if you are a close being to someone suffering from it. Beware. 

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>> What just happened? Nothing actually. Just another person suicided. 

>> Hmm. That's okay. There are more people to compensate the loss. 

>> Well, the parents won't get the exact child. The best friend won't get the exact twin. The lover will never hold another the same. 

>> Then the depressed one should have sought medical intervention. 

>> She tried that, I heard. But it didn't seem to work. 

>> Why?

>> She trusted her folks more than some trained professionals with brilliant degrees and years of experience. 

>> So, is it trust what killed her, not depression?

>> Umm....