One reason I started writing for The Odyssey was to eliminate the stigma that shadows mental illness, and instead, create public awareness. To do this, I thought I would post a short story I wrote for a class this past fall. My emotions usually surface the best through my creative works, and the story I have in mind is quite personal to me. I hope the short story, Shades of Blue, can help you become more aware of depression and the effects that it has on individuals.
When you were 12, your world was a beautiful sunrise with hope painted among the horizon. That was when I realized you saw the world differently than me. When we rode the bus, you would always look out the window. One time I asked you what you were looking at, and you stared at me with sky blue eyes and smiled, "I'm not looking, I'm memorizing." Then you snapped your head back towards the glass, like you were going to miss something important. What you were memorizing, I didn't know. There were a lot of things that I didn’t understand about you, although I desperately wanted too. My eyes would always stay the same brown from birth to death.
When you were 18, your world was a dangerous rainstorm. I knew something bad had happened to you on the last Saturday of October, but I never asked. You wouldn't have told me, but I should've asked you anyway. To show you I cared. On that Sunday, I could see the change in you. You still had moments of sunny hope, but when I saw you come home after that party, I knew you'd never recover. You started to try and hide the dark sky with all different types of dangerous distractions, but the pain of your fragile heart was never soothed. Our mom started to worry about you, but she just assumed it was your rebellious phase. She didn't understand that you would never go back to the happy little kid you once were. I didn't understand it either, but at least my brown eyes tried to. I guess I didn't try hard enough though because all I could do was watch your eyes absorb the dark shades of pain with every cloud that formed. Somedays, I'd catch that 12-year-old smile of yours, but your eyes never went back to the same rich sky color.
When you were 20, the world to you was a lonely winter night. Our parents didn't think you'd even go to college, and maybe that’s why you went. They assumed you’d fail out, and sadly, I thought the same. Your enthusiasm grew too dull, and you found no reason to add colorful knowledge. So, you didn’t care about college and moved back home with our mom during the cold months of winter. One night, you wouldn't come down when we called you for dinner, so I was sent to get you. I opened the door to see your lifeless body on top of your bed.They said you were dead 30 minutes before I got there, but I know you really died when you lost those blue eyes. That night, your eyes were the darkest shade of blue the sky had ever seen. My brown eyes didn't memorize them though, they only looked.
Watching someone deal with depression can be scary, and make you feel like you have no control. You may feel powerless because your eye color is a different shade, but that shouldn’t stop you from helping them. You have the curative power of support. Instead of getting caught up in your lack of control, be there for them. Show them you care. You have the power to put the color back into their eyes, and that’s even more powerful than the night sky that darkened them.
