text: Hello all! Last November, I wrote this short story on a whim. I haven't had the chance to update or modify anything on it since. I was hoping I could get some feedback from every one here. First time posting to this sub as well. Thanks! Depression: a short story. When I was born, I was given a candle. I was told that this is my happiness. I held onto this candle for as long as I could. Eventually, it disappeared. I couldn't find it. I searched everywhere throughout my mind to find it. I fell quite a bit. I stumbled often. Sometimes I would just lay on the floor after falling, little to no motivation to continue my search. Years went by. I still didn't find that candle. The world around me grew dim, cold, void of colors that were once vibrant and welcoming. Eventually, darkness settled into my mind. I accepted my fate after a while. I sat in the middle of the inky darkness. Staring into a random area of the room. Everything looked the same. I stayed in that room for quite some time. More years went by. Occasionally, lights would flicker on and inevitably turn off again. I stayed in that same spot, even though the lights would illuminate the world and show me what was there. But it would always become dark after a few hours. I felt safe there, in the dark. I couldn't see and nothing could see me. I thought about that candle from time to time. It flickered dimly in my memories. Having not seen it in years, my memory of the candle was cloudy and faded. I stayed in the dark room, but would wander around, trying to map out the area I had grown comfortable in. A few more years went by. I was still in that dark, macabre room. I had mapped the whole area out by that time. I had memorized everything around me, even though I could not see. I grew more and more comfortable with the objects and corners I memorized. I didn't realize it at first, but the room was never ending. One day, I felt the wall and found a door. I had never found a door before. Naturally, I opened it. Expecting more darkness. More numbing sadness. More uncertainty about what was behind it. Beyond the door, I found a hallway. Dimly lit. I followed this hallway for a few more years. At the end of the hallway, there was another door. I was excited to find something else other than two walls beside me with a ceiling and floor and endless darkness ahead of me. I took a deep breath. Preparing for more disappointment. As I placed my hand on the lever, it was different this time. The door felt lighter than the heavier one behind me, years away. Pushing the door open, I found a giant room. With an endless ceiling that went much higher than I could ever fathom or care to know. There was a small voice. It didn't make any sense at first, but I followed it. The voice would rarely make sense, just garbled words that I couldn't understand. It took me up many flights of stairs. So many of them. I thought it would never end. I would get tired and have to take a break every so often. Recently, I ascended all of the stairs. I had finally made it to the top! My eyes had fully adjusted to the darkness by now. I was used to it. That's when I saw the candle. It was right there. A few steps away, sitting on top of a table. It hadn't changed much. Still the same size and it was still burning. My eyes hurt to look at it. Having not been around visible light for years, it gave me extreme headaches if I looked at it for longer than a second. A few months went by. I was still at the top of the stairs. The candle was still there. And I had grown accustomed to its dim glow. I was afraid of it. It was new, different, and unfamiliar to me. The voice came back. After being gone for months, it startled me. I could hear it with great clarity and could actually understand the words this time. I realized that it was the candle talking. It told me stories of adventures that I had been on, the wonderful and inspiring people I met along the way, the people I helped in life, and many other stories that made me happy. Happy? What is this? This isn't something I was familiar with. I'm 25 now. I have gotten a bit closer to the candle. I can make out the intricate details of the table legs and the color of the wood. The candle still tells me stories that make me happy. One day I'll hold it again. One day I will carry it down all those stairs, that long hallway, and eventually back to the room where I started. The light will illuminate everything around me. A warm, soft glow will soon overtake the darkness. And I will sit in that same room, in the same spot, with my candle. We'll tell stories to each other. Learn about each other. And grow together as a single entity. I'm not going to give up. I will return to my comfortable room with the candle in my hands. Until then, I'll sit quietly and listen to the candle. I'll let it warm me with stories of love and excitement. One day, I'll believe those stories. One day, I'll be strong enough to carry both my happiness and my sadness. On that day, I will celebrate quietly. By myself and the candle. Alone in the room. And everything will feel okay.