"Well, I wanted to start a club for depression. But I was depressed and didn't do it."

I didn't want to be having this conversation. If it wasn't for teachers being so nosy, I wouldn't be answering all these goddamn questions. She kept just saying what she thought I wanted to hear, but the truth is that I didn't want to hear it. I just wanted to have those 30 minutes to sit in my room alone. Now, I will never get that time back and will have to deal with more human interaction than I wished to tolerate.

"Did you ever see a therapist?”

"No."

I was tired of hearing this question over and over again. Seeing a therapist wouldn't do anything for me. It would just make me feel awkward and uncomfortable. I hated being the center of attention. After that, she said a few more "encouraging" things that I'm pretty sure she got off of Pinterest. I smiled and nodded and acted like I cared for the sake of avoiding any more conversation and left.

The hallways were crowded with faces that all looked the same. The moment I walked out of the classroom I was engulfed in estrogen. Not one man at this school. Not even the teachers. The last man I probably saw was my dad when he came to visit me three months ago. There was an all boys' school on the other side of the lake, but it didn't seem worth it to sneak out and see them. Some girls would spend their whole night rowing all the way across the lake and rowing all the way back just to kiss a boy for five minutes. I'd rather lay in my bed.

At least some girls got to see the boys on the weekends if they played sports. There was a building closer to the boys' side where they'd play games together on the weekends. I would never do that kind of thing. I wasn't blessed with athletic abilities. I guess I just didn't care that much about boys either. It was hard to care about anything when you're depressed. It's mainly just thinking about everything that's wrong — the bigger picture kind of stuff.

I haven't been happy since my parents sent me here. I've always been more down than most people. If they thought sending me here would make me better, they were wrong. I tried telling them I wasn't happy, but every year was just another year of, "It'll get better." They told me I just needed time to adjust. Three years seems more than enough.

When I finally got back to my dorm, I just lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling, trying not to get distracted by my roommate's posters that I could see out of my peripheral vision. She was a barbie doll. People literally only referred to her as "doll" because she looked so much like one. She was perfect down to a tee. Blonde hair, tan skin, big boobs, small waist — the whole package. She was sociable and friendly to everyone she met, yet there was nothing fake about it. If I had the choice, I would have chosen to room alone but my parents said having a roommate would help me make friends easier. That was just an excuse to make rooming cheaper.

I got up from my bed and made my way to the bathroom. I felt pretty useless and empty at this point. I didn’t really see a reason to do much of anything else. I opened the cabinet and stared at a bottle of sleeping pills for a while. I poured some out of the bottle and rolled them around in my hand. I was literally holding death in the palm of my hand. I placed a couple on my tongue. Then I noticed an old crumbled up Theatre Club flyer in the trashcan. I stared at it awhile, contemplating grabbing it and actually filling it out. I figured I might as well, 'cause what else did I have to live for?

The outcome was instantaneous. After school the next day, I made my way over to the Theatre Club. I was immediately greeted by a small, pixie-like girl who introduced herself as the club president. She ran up and hugged me, which caught me by surprise. I didn’t normally like hugs from strangers, but she was so welcoming that I was actually okay with it this time around. Normally in these kinds of situations, I was awkwardly standing alone in the corner, but no one here would allow that. There was always someone who made sure I felt like I was included. I was surprised by how accepting everyone was.

I was most surprised by a number of boys there. I didn’t realize that the clubs were co-ed, so it was a little overwhelming. Easy to say, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, but I was pleased it worked out this way. To be frank, I wasn’t really attracted to any of the guys off the bat. But I think it’s safe to say most of them weren’t attracted to me either. They were friendly, though, all asking me if I had ever hooked up with anyone and other things like that. I couldn’t help but act sheepish and mumble no. I was thoroughly enjoying everyone being so nice, but really, I just wanted to observe.

I especially took a liking to a couple named Lucas and Macy. They were so comfortable with themselves, it was an odd thing to encounter. When Macy acted, it was especially evident. She wasn’t afraid to move her body in weird ways to get into her role, and it was a fascinating thing to watch. Even more fascinating was watching Lucas watch her. He really loved her, and not in some I-wanna-get-in-your-pants type of way. He was genuinely into her.

I even met someone who reminded me of myself. It was a little crazy how similar we were. Her name was Eponine; she had purple hair and dark roots. Her roots made her brown eyes pop in a weird way, and it almost looked nice. Her style was weird — like the type of stuff I wished I could wear but didn’t have the nerve to. Everything about her on the outside embodied how I felt on the inside. The only difference between her and I was that she actually had the guts to put herself out there. We had this long conversation where she told me it took her a long time to get this comfortable in her own skin, but now that she was, she could never imagine going back to the place she used to be in. She described the place she was in a lot like the place I was in now. I asked her how she got there, and she told me that medication helped a good bit. She said I ought to get my parents to take me to a doctor next holiday. As tempting as the idea was, I wasn’t sure how I would bring that up to them.

It took a couple of months, but I started talking more. I actually even started hanging out with Macy and Eponine after class and before Theatre Club. I kissed a boy on New Year's Eve when Macy convinced Eponine and me to sneak across the lake with her. I even met a guy I actually liked who liked me back — someone I could see myself in a relationship with. Things were finally starting to get better. Maybe mom and dad were right. Maybe I did just need some time to adjust. I felt like this was the person I was supposed to become all along, but I guess I just needed some time and help to get there. I couldn’t imagine what my life would be like if I hadn’t joined Theatre Club because there wouldn’t be one at all.

But that wasn’t the case.

You see, none of this ever happened. All of these were just images before the end. Just “what if’s.” What if I had spit out those pills? What if I had joined Theatre Club? What if I had made friends? What if I had opened up? What if I had met a boy? What if I had made memories? What if I was happy? What if…

What if?

I’ll never know.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.