ᴋɪɴɢ ʀᴀꜰᴀᴇʟ: ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ ✓

⭒41⭒

One day you will ask me
Which is more important?
My life or yours?
I will say mine and you
Will walk away not knowing
That you are my life.
{Khalil Gibran}
________

Depression.

"Feelings of extreme despondency and dejection" According to google. But google was just a computer. What did a computer know about feelings.

To me, depression was a deep and dark void which you were physically pulled into. It's like quicksand. The more you try to escape the, the more you plant yourself firmly in it. And the less chances there are of you getting out as the same person you used to be.

My smile wasn't even a smile anymore, but a shell of what it used to be. It was hallow and didn't really radiate the happiness I wanted it to. And my family. The last time I spoke to them was three weeks ago. And the Mukhtars. I didn't see them often unless it was the weekends, or that rare nightly encounter I'd have either them upon reaching home from the hospital.

I didn't feel like meeting anyone. Didn't feel like talking to anyone. Didn't feel like engaging in anything remotely exciting. It's like my body was made for this sadness. I just wanted to be alone.

Gosh, my mind was exploding with all these depressing thoughts. Literally. And with this feeling crushing me down, a month and a half passed by in sadness. I was too out of it to realise how much time I actually spent in my head. Over the course of this period, the things that normally excited me no longer did, such as the rain. Or waking up every morning and working at the hospital.

I couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel, and my brain worried whether I ever would. There was just too much on my mind right now.

Suddenly a phone call rang out midst looking after a patient. The man had fallen down from a ladder in someone's house that he was building. Thankfully, he broke only his leg, which was now in a cast, and nothing more. I ignored the shrill phone call, and helped the man lie down, pushing his legs back gently, taking extra care for the injured leg. I smiled as dread filled me, but visibly let out a sigh at the now silenced room. I made sure to apologise to the man, if i'd accidentally disturbed him. But truth be told, I don't know how my phone wasn't on silent, since this wasn't like me at all.

"I'm sorry, Mister Genovese" he returned the smile, mischief swirling around in those pools of brown. "Must be someone special calling you at this time of work" he grinned politely, but there was something more in his eyes.

"After-all you are a young beauty" Ah there the punchline was. It wasn't professional to laugh, but I just couldn't help the chuckle which so desperately wanted to escape from my mouth. Did I forget to mention Mister Genovese was a charmer with his words. He liked to tease a couple of the doctors here a lot, leaving some of the elderly women hot and sweaty. I must admit, he was a good looking man, but of course due to personal and professional reasons our relationship was nothing more than doctor-patient.

But that didn't mean he didn't enjoy pulling our legs a few times. He said he was pretty bored in the hospital and our reactions made his time here bearable. Poor guy. I can imagine what he's going through. But then again I also can't. There was too much going on for me that even smiling seemed to be a heavy task. But thanks to Mister Genovese, my mood was somehwat better than it had been all throughout the past month.

It was the end of the week, the last day to be more precise. Great, as it meant I'd have more time to spend in my head. I was in the staff room, putting on my coat to protect me from the windy weather. It was a long day, and I couldn't wait to just get in bed and sleep my sorrows away.