Comfort and sadness

My friend used to be depressed. Her older brother used to be depressed. Her dad used to be depressed and he didn’t make it.

She said she was lucky. She was the latest person in her family to be depressed. She learned a lot from the ones before her, on how to be depressed and on how not to.

It’s not a fun thing to share but they did share the weights of depression. When she curled up in bed and couldn’t get out for days, she thought about this cursed family tradition that they all shared at some point in their lives, and it was sadly comforting.

They all went to therapy. Different ones. Her dad didn’t make it. Her brother, after her dad hung himself, tried. He made it. He made it out. When my friend was diagnosed with depression, her brother was the one who drove her to her therapist. She saw one man in her life made it and one didn’t. She had to make some choices for her own.

She also made it out. She took meds like her doctors told her to. She went to therapy like she should. She was diagnosed when she was 15. Her teenage years were spent taking medicine to “alter” her mind. During a time everyone else was trying to figure out who they were, she took meds to let go of a part of her. Ten years later she stopped going to therapy. She was no longer clinically depressed, but she no longer knew who she was now that she wasn’t that “depressed girl” anymore.

She had a family of her own now: a nice husband and four kids. She had a good life and would carry on having a good life. She had dinners with her brother often. She fell in love and laughed a lot. But sometimes when that Nirvana’s song was on

I miss the comfort in being sad
I miss the comfort in being sad
I miss the comfort in being sad

She sat in her rocking chair by the window trying to not turn her melancholy into real sadness. She thought about how happiness is fleeting and maybe sadness, sadness is eternal in her.

Wrote this quick prose for a Go Dog Go Prompt. Always a pleasure to write their prompt.


A mandatory survey

Photo by Negative Space on

<Ring! Ring! Ring!>

“Hello? This is Jenna speaking.”

“Hello. This is Demon Beta. We are calling from the Grim Reaper office about a mandatory life span survey. It is required that everyone takes this survey. Do you have a minute to talk now?”

“Oh hi. I can talk in about 3 minutes. I’m taking my kid out to the school bus now, I’ll put you on hold then I can be right back. Is that ok?”

“Yes, madam. I’ll hold.”

<hold music playing>

“Hi. This is Jenna. Thank you for waiting. I’m back.”

“Hi Jenna. Can we talk about the survey now?”

“Sure. Go ahead. I can talk now.”

“Thank you. So how this is going to work is, I’m going to ask you a series of questions. After each set of questions, from the information you provided me, I will provide you with a estimate time deduction. Please keep in mind that those are only estimations. We do not guarantee that the estimations will happen exactly within the time frame we provided. We are not responsible to answer any questions that we deem inappropriate. Can I please get a confirmation that you understand the procedure of the survey?”

“Sure. I understand. I confirm.”

“Very good madam. So first question, how often do you use hard drugs like heroin, cocaine, and methamphetamine?”

“Oh, no. I don’t use them. Never.”

“Ok. So your estimate time deduction is 0 for that question. Next question, how often do you smoke cigarrette or consume tobacco products?”

“Uhm. Not that often anymore. I do smoke everyday but I tried to only do once a day.”

“Ok. So your estimate time deduction for that question is 8 years.”

“Yeah. I do expect that.”

“Ok. Good. How often do you drink alcohol?”

“About once or twice a week.”

“Your estimate time deduction for that question is six years. Do you have depression?”

“Depression? No, no. I’m sad here and there, like everyone else, but no, not depression.”

“Madam, I just want to remind you that it’s illegal to provide wrongful information to the Grim Reaper agency. We already had all your information.”

“No. I wasn’t lying. I really don’t have depression. I don’t think it’s bad enough to be call a depression. Where do you get that information from?”

“Ok, madam. So going off from what I have on file about your mental health, your estimate time…”

“I asked you where you got that information from? Don’t ignore me. Answer that. Who said I have depression?”

“Madam, calm down. Your estimate time deductio…”

“I’m fucking calm. Who do you think you are to call my house and called me a liar and told me I had depression? I’m not weak. I don’t have depression.”

“Madam, those questions are considered inappropriate so I won’t answer them. You had confirmed to understand the survey procedure earlie…”

“I don’t care about procedure. I wanted to know who marked me as a wimpy, pathetic, depressed person?”

“Madam, since you are repeatedly violated our initial survey agreement, this survey had to stop here today. Someone from our agency will contact you again in the future to finish the survey. I just want to let you know, with depression, your estimate time deduction range from 5 to 20 years. Your child will be any age from 12 to…”


This post is a reply to a weekly prompt from VJ’s blog. I really enjoyed writing up this quick prompt.