Happiness, the undefined

“I guess you’re very happy today” she asked.

It’s been 3 years since we met. I met her in my first year of engineering and now, is the 2nd time I’m meeting her, in my fourth year.

“I guess you’re very happy today” she asked again, until which I didn’t realize that I haven’t given her an answer.

“I guess so. Well, yes. I’ve seen you” I replied, trying to be flirtatious.

But inside, I was at a conflict. I knew what it was. What is happiness? What does someone mean by being happy?

The definition of happiness changed in the last few days. Since that day, a conflict grew in me. What is happiness? That was the question troubling me.

Was happiness a mask that we put on ourselves to look brave and strong? Is happiness the drive and reason for living? Is happiness the ultimate destination? How many types of happiness are even there? These were the questions.

But why in the past few days has the definition changed? What happened? I was still thinking when she held my hand and asked me

“Dude, what happened?”

What should I say happened? Should I say that because of my running away nature, every one of my friends has deserted me? That I was emotionally disturbed because I was alone? Or that fact that I can only be alone? I didn’t know. But what is there to know? That I spent my birthday alone when I dreamt of having a fun party with my friends? Rather than having a party, I spent my birthday in my room, trying too hard to put on a brave face and hope someone will walk through the door, trying to wish me or call me in that pursuit. Or that I was putting on a brave face, because I don’t have a person in my life I can call as a friend anymore? That I was fed up of things? That I didn’t see any point in living?

What should I say happened?

She was patient enough to wait for me to answer these questions and as we were walking, she put her arm around me to give me support and comfort.

But did those questions stop? No. They started getting intensified. And a while later, I could see the sky running away from me. I chuckled, and the last thing I remember was my friend, shouting my name, before I blacked out…

Sometime later (probably), I could sense something was happening. My brain was registering various signals. I could listen to voices I never heard of, I could listen machines beeping, and I felt light as if my clothes were changed into a dressing gown. But after that I couldn’t understand anything. I tried opening my eyes. With great difficulty I opened my eyes. Or so I thought. Lights flashed (or were on for a long time) on me so bright that I closed them immediately. It took me a while to realize that I was in a hospital. I could make out the words of the doctor and the nurses there. “Just a hunger thing” they were saying. I could hear their words, but couldn’t make a meaning out of it. As I tried to lift my head, the nurses helped me. I could see my friend, outside, talking to a doctor (he was wearing a white coat and a stethoscope). By the look on her face, I could guess she was shocked and worried. But again, no clue on what was happening to me.

A while later, I got some food and she came inside and held my hand.

“Thank you so much” I said to her and trying to hide the tears for the fact that I fell unconscious, when I kept bragging that I was so strong and all.

“You’re welcome. It it’s not for these critical moments, why are friends there for?”

I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore. After I stopped crying I asked her what the doctor said.

“They said that it might be a diabetes stroke. They asked me if you had anything, and I said that we had a pizza a few hours ago. They couldn’t get anything from the results till now. They are still waiting. But they want you to meet a psychiatrist, as the diabetes might not be the case. I’ll be here. Till then you take some food and sleep.”

Later, he came. The Psychiatrist. He slowly woke me up without disturbing my sleep and once I was fully awake, he started asking me questions. He said that it was imperative for us to talk so that he can zero in on the problem that I might be facing. Slowly the conversation went on and I was trying to give my best answers to the questions that he was asking. He said one last question “What was the last thing you remember before you blacked out?” he asked.

I told him everything. How I started questioning various things and how those started getting heavier and started overwhelming me and how I saw that sky running away from me. He reviewed his notes and I slowly closed my eyes. He left, or that’s what happened. Few minutes later, my friend comes in and by the look on her face, I don’t think I got the Nobel Prize.

“What?” I asked.

“You have MDD” she replied. I could sense that she was the one who was putting a brave face now, otherwise she would have burst into tears.

“What’s MDD?” I asked here. That answer will be the last one I’ll listen before blacking out again.

Those were three words which were almost the last ones I remember.

“Major Depression Disorder” she replied, bursting into tears.




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