If Depression Was A Person
A Short Story
The day was long. Not the fulfilling, happy summer day type. The rain hit the coffee shop window, leaving a trail similar to the tears that I once cried. The wind was strong and if it wasn’t for the constant force that pulls me towards the earth’s center, I’d have involuntarily flown across the world. “God, you should fly to the other side of the planet”, he said as he sat next to me. I ignored and made my way home. He accompanied me, leaving as soon as I stepped the doormat. Now I could finally put on the music that would help me forget about the grey sky I’ve been staring at all day.
This was much of a routine. After work, I’d get my fourth or fifth coffee of the day on the café down the road, he would come silently and put some unpleasant words together. Sometimes, he’d walk me home, some other times, he’d just wave me goodbye from our table as he’d watch me leave.
He didn’t bother me nor was interesting, so I limited myself to learn his name and nothing more — “I’m Depression”, he introduced himself. That was the only time I’ve seen him smile.
This certain day, I woke up earlier and feeling energetic. I am not a morning person, so this was kind of an occasional accomplishment. I got up, worked out, took a shower, had breakfast and even had time to explore a couple of chapters from the book I’ve…
