Well, it wasn’t the best birthday in the world, but once the girls had simmered down the gossip had started back up again. They finally went to sleep at around three o’clock in the morning, although there was some debate as to who had fallen asleep last.
But now everyone had gone home and Tara was back to sitting in her bedroom, alone. This was the worst time for her. She loved being able to be left alone, sitting on her wide windowsill, reading. But Tara’s mind was wandering. She was gazing off into the distance, no longer concentrating on the rain which was running down her window in vertical streams.
She was thinking about a lot. Perhaps too much. Her lack of close friends, her latest failure in her mock exams, and her distance from her family. She didn’t go out anymore. Tara new she was slipping into a state of depression, something that occurred on a regular basis, but she couldn’t stop herself. She went and lay on her bed and closed her eyes.
Slowly she felt the tears building up behind her eyelids and she could no longer let them out. She didn’t sob; in fact she made no noise at all. She just curled up in a ball and let the tears falls.
The thoughts were flicking through her head. Overdose, hanging, slitting wrists. All suicide. It was the only thing that seemed possible for her. The only way to escape her monotonous life. The easy way out. Tara didn’t want to fight. She didn’t have the energy. She refused to eat, sleep or exercise. She was exhausted, anorexic and suffered from insomnia. All signs of a young girl suffering from a depressive disorder.
It was always there, in the back of her head, the doctor turning to her mother and saying, “I’m sorry Mrs Ellis, but your daughter is a sufferer of a mental disorder called major depressive disorder.” He didn’t say it to her. He didn’t think she would understand.. But something inside Tara broke. The realisation.
She didn’t know how everyone found out about it so quickly but soon the phone calls were coming in thick and fast. People at school avoided her as if her disorder was some kind of contagious disease. Very soon she became part of the misfit group.
As Tara lay there, sobbing softly now, she listened to the patter of the rain on the roof above her. Everything else was silent. She thought to herself how little she had these moments before she was diagnosed. It seemed like being diagnosed had just made it worse. As if the realisation of it had made her even more depressed.
Tara curled up even tighter in her ball. She just wanted the feeling to go away, to feel happiness all throughout her body.
But all she could feel was sadness.