"Why do we do the things we do?" the girl was the first to speak, and she repeated her unanswered question from their last session.
"It depends on the person and place, does it not?"
"I'm sad. I wouldn't call it depressed, no, I'm just sad. But the doctors call me depressed, some even said suicidal. Can I be sad, without being depressed?"
Anne-Marie couldn't answer.
"It's an odd thing isn't it? Depression. What does it mean? I'm always sad. Sometimes I feel a little bit of happiness, but the sadness is always there. The doctors said that depression is different for everyone. Some people are always angry, some people are always sad, some people don't know what they feel, and some people feel everything. How can they say that all those people are clinically depressed?"
Anne-Marie gulped because once again, she couldn't answer. The girl wasn't complaining, she wasn't whining, she wasn't accusing anyone of any wrongdoing. Instead, she was just stating everything plainly.
Silence.
