For Crying Out Loud

16: Depresion Pride

Sierra's P.O.V.

The week goes by fast. I swim through my classes. Hang out with my friends. I even stay for lunch and sit with the twins and our friends Siana And Traya. I can't help but feel a little guilty when I look over at the empty seat that used to be Jake's back when he stayed for lunch- which hasn't been since freshman year- but besides that twinge of unavoidable guilt, I feel like I used to. Happy.

I don't have any confrontation with Amy. Not until Friday, when she has the nerve to ask me if I've heard from him. I tell her no with balled fists. She walks away. She's always been the type to walk away.

Saturday, Precious comes to pick me up. She talks with my mom as I get ready, and I can't help but listen on the conversation.

"She's been a lot happier lately." My mom says. I smile a little.

"Well I'm trying my best to make her happy." Says Precious.

"I know sweetheart. Just be careful. She's known for pretending to be happy." My smile drops and I stalk into the living room quickly.

"Ready?" I say, pushing my red curls to one side. Precious smiles at me and nods. I can't help but memorize her dimples. They almost remind me of Jake's, but different. Better maybe.

My mom tells us to have a good time and be careful as we drive away. I finish the rest of my make-up in the car. I kind of had to rush out because my mom wouldn't shut up. I'm not pretending. This is real. I'm happy. I'm glad. I'm grand. I'm fucking great.

"Where are we going?" I ask Precious. I've been in her car twice this week. We've been spending a lot of time together lately. No drama. No particular strings. Just two girls trying to be happy. I'm not trying. I am.

"Somewhere." She teases. Her smile reappears, revealing her sweet dimples in her creamy caramel skin. I smile a little and chew at my lips.

"Fun fact: I don't like surprises." I tell her, trying to pry our destination. She just laughs and keeps driving.

We eventually pull up at a lake on the edge of town. The water is perfectly blue with perfectly angled currents and ripples. I huff out a laugh when she places a picnic basket on the ground.

"Well aren't you a romantic." I say as I sit next to her. She blushes slightly as she takes a couple wrapped sandwiches and cans of coke.

"It's not exactly romantic eating, but I guess the view is nice." She says as she takes a bite of peanut butter and jelly. I can't help myself. This moment is the perfect moment for a cheesy pick-up line.

"Indeed it is. You're hear after all." I say with a wicked grin. She almost spits out her food when she laughs.

"Jesus, that was priceless. Predictably priceless." She laughs. I laugh. We eat and drink and watch the birds fly to a fro the water. After a few moments of comfortable silence, she gets serious. "When were you diagnosed with depression." She asks.

I look at her, study her even. I contemplate the answer. I know the answer obviously, but how do I want to approach saying it? "How do you know I was diagnosed?" I attempt the dodge it.

"You're prescribed to Prozac. The same anti-depressant I'm on. When were you diagnosed?" I sigh. I didn't dodge it.

"I was thirteen when my mom found the cuts. She took me the clinic and they put me on that shit." I answer.

"I was diagnosed when I was sixteen, after my mom died. When do you think you actual became depressed?" She asks. This is a constant question I get from social workers, friends, family, and simply curious bystanders. I always have the same response.

"I can't remember a time when I wasn't. I don't think I became depressed. I think I was born with depression." She nods as she finishes her sandwich.

"I realized I had a problem a couple months after my dad got out of jail for domestic violence. He came back and he was normal. Good normal. The way a father should be. But I didn't trust him, an the paranoia became depression. I never understood it, but after my mom died in the accident and I watched my dad cry for the first time ever, I wanted out. I wanted to go with her. I tried, and that led to my diagnoses."

"I see." Is all I can say. I can't even imagine living in such a home. Living with such fear. That's not really living at all. Me: I don't have to fear because I always know it's coming.

"Do you detested your depression? Do you wish you didn't have it?" She looks at me then. Now she is studying me. I realize then that she is trying to stop feeling alone.

"No. I'm proud of my depression. Without it, I just wouldn't be me. Depression, I believe, is one of those things that can make you just as easily as it can destroy you. But though I am proud of my depression, I am not my depression, and neither are you."

She smiles at me. It reaches her eyes this time, and I finally realize how fake the rest of the smiles were. This smile is better. Sweeter. More worth memorizing. She lifts her soda, and I lift mine and we cheers as she says "To depression pride!"

______~|~
So Precious is highly interested in other people's view on depression. She is simply a curious girl. There is a lot of pretending going on here, if you haven't noticed. Vote! Tell me what you think! LOVE YOU MY DARKLINGS!!