The Call

Liliale looked at herself in the mirror, searching for the reflection that would make sense. When she gazed into the looking glass, depression stared back. After so many years of seeing the same reflection, she had forgotten what she truly looked like. Did she have blonde hair or brown? Blue eyes or green? All Liliale could see was the greyscale her depression emitted. Grey eyes, grey hair, and grey skin. If it were only her reflection, Liliale did not think it would be so bad. But the world was grey, too.

She tried to talk to people about what she was going through. She tried to explain how she felt, how she saw herself and the world around her. When she told her family and friends about her depression, she hoped they would have the perfect words to make her feel better, alive, maybe even human.

Many people had some advice to give her, wanting to help in their own way. "Think about happy things. You will get over it. Cheer up. It is all in your head." Some blamed her. "It is your fault. Maybe if you did this, it would be different. If you were not like this, it would not have turned out like this." Several people shamed her. "You are only thinking about yourself. You are acting selfishly. Other people have problems too." But what hurt her the most was the disbelief. "You don't look depressed. You don't act any different. You must be imagining it."

After what felt like seconds and while also an eternity, Liliale looked away from her reflection. In her right hand, she held a bottle of prescription pills with her name printed in black. Her doctor told her they would help her see the world in color again, that they would take the pain away, the destructive desires that filled her heart and her mind constantly. The chemical imbalance that created itself after years of detrimental thinking would begin to heal. Her family discouraged taking medication. They told her they would change her mind, the way she thinks and acts. Was it worth the risk? She could trade the misery she felt every day and night for the numb, emotionless feeling they warned her about. Liliale knew there was a high chance she would still see greyscale, but she would not mind; because she also knew she would not feel the wretched emotions.

Liliale placed the pill bottle on the sink, unsure whether to take the pills or flush them down the toilet. Placing her head in her hands, tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill over. She fought them, not wanting to feel the warm liquid roll down her face in fear that the sensation would cause her fractured mind to break. Liliale felt scared and alone. She knew she had a support system filled with people who cared in their own way, but it never seemed to be enough. She felt trapped within her own discombobulated mind.

Liliale lifted her head to look in the mirror again. Who was this girl? Liliale remembered having dreams, healthy desires, and hunger. When was the last time she had a craving for anything other than release from the mental walls holding her back? She could not remember. She forgot about her dreams and the feelings of love and joy.

You know how to help yourself. Why put yourself through this again?

Liliale recognized the calming voice in her head. It was her voice.

You do not have to feel this way. You can feel happiness again.

Liliale covered her ears, fighting the desire to succumb to the depression and suffering her mind and body seemed so comfortable with. Her head was filling with the thick fog the agony brought with it, clouding any lucid thought she had left. It covered her like a blanket, slowly suffocating her sanity.

You can help yourself. You do not have to feel this way.

Liliale opened the medicine cabinet, reached in, and grabbed the other pill bottles her doctor gave her. Frantically, she opened them. On the last bottle, her fumbling hands slipped, spilling the contents into the sink. The sound of the little pills and capsules hitting the porcelain caused sharp pains in her chest. Despite the pain the noise caused, she found it alluring. It was a siren's call to a dangerous, peaceful sleep. Liliale wanted to sleep, wanted to give in to the siren's song.