Dear Maca:

Woohoo, another letter! Did you like the fair? Did you buy many books? When I went to deliver this letter I did not only almost destroy Mr McDean’s stand, I also bought 10 plays! I don’t even think I’ll have time to read them all but they all looked so pretty and I dunno… they called my name? Plus, I was thinking of you, wondering if you had already read these or if you wanted to. Maybe I’ll tell you about them if you want to.

You know what is great? To be able to have room to tell you more things. The post-its are cool, don’t get me wrong. I love doing what we do, but it’s cool too to be able to write you a whole page (or several pages considering there are many letters). To be honest, I can’t wait to finally meet you and get to properly talk. There are many things I want to ask you.

Anyhow, do you like animals? I love cats the best. I think it’s because they are so independent and elegant but they can be so fluffy and cuddly when they want. And they sound funny. If that’s not reason enough to like cats I don’t know what could be.

So what about you visit a shelter? There’s one I volunteer at where they rescue animals and receive those that people can’t take care of anymore. There are plenty of cute cats but if you like other animals better it’s okay. There are no dolphins if you were expecting that ;)

The address is in the next page and once you are there ask Rosie to give you the next letter. And if you are carrying too many things you can leave them there and we can go pick them up later. For now you’re done with the book fair unless you wanna ditch me and stay there the whole day. I would accept that ):

By the way, don’t forget tell Mr McDean to give you the camera and take a picture with him to remember this day, okay?

See you soon, don’t forget to smile! (:

PS: The letter is E.

By when I finish the letter I’m still chuckling at all the things he said. For some reason I feel this letter was written when he was hyped. Like I can feel in his words he was getting excited and I feel like that now, too. It’s been so wonderful so far and I can’t wait to see what else he has planned.

I’ve always wanted to do volunteer work but for some reason always something comes up and I end up staying home. Sometimes it just stays as a desire and I do nothing about it. I don’t know if it’s because I just lack motivation for everything or because I’m just not emotionally stable to do so. However, I’ve been told that helping others would make me feel better with myself.

Maybe I don’t want to feel better with myself. Maybe, without noticing, I’ve hijacked my own plans just to keep feeling miserable.

I don’t know.

Sometimes I just have crazy theories about how I harm myself in very different ways. People tend to think that when you are depressed the only way you can harm yourself is with cuts but there are many, oh so many more ways and the real scars that depression leaves are far uglier than what a cut leaves, and only you can see them. People think and underestimate what depression is. People confuse so many things and belittle what is really happening. People don’t even consider that some people are not depressed just because they are going through a rough patch, some people just are naturally depressed, it’s part of them, of how they work and they live their whole lives with that.

I’m one of those.

I’ve been diagnosed with endogenous depression and it’s not just your ‘oh poor girl, she’s depressed. Look, she’s so sad.’ It’s more complex than that and even more complex to make people understand what really is. Sometimes I feel good, sometimes I feel like I’m actually great but then… then there are days when nothing seems to reach me, when I’m drowning in a black pit of despair and there’s no way out. It’s a constant chaos when you don’t know how tomorrow is going to be. You don’t know if you’ll feel like fighting the next day. Every second is a constant fight. Every breath. And yes, sometimes it gets less difficult, but it’s never easy and people tend to forget that. And when you’re feeling down the most natural thing is to think negatively. It’s a vicious circle. The most natural thing is to hate yourself and believe you don’t deserve anything. And you want to do everything you can to destroy yourself but at the same time you don’t want to lose yourself forever but you do want that. It’s a hurricane in your mind and you know no one will ever understand you.

You have to live under constant supervision. Taking pills to keep you stable, to keep you happy. You just can’t live like everyone else and you ask yourself why. Why me? Why can’t I be free like all the others? Like my friends? Why can’t I get over this stage like other people do? Why do I have to stay years and years as a prisoner of my own depression? Why do I have to live with this forever? I can’t get over it, I can only control it and that… that fact hurts so deeply you can’t summon the words convey the appropriate feelings.

So yeah, maybe I’m the one doing things to stop me from feeling better because what’s the point? But still, there’s a part of me who still struggles to be happy, to feel fine.

This time I didn’t organise this. This time someone is dragging me and making me do something that will make me feel happy. Helping animals that have no one else to look after them will surely make me happy. I can’t do anything to ruin things because I don’t want to do this to my stranger. He’s gone through all the trouble to plan this for me so the least I can do is actually going to this shelter and smile, like he tells me to do all the time.

Furthermore, I really want to meet this happy lad. Someone who leaves random notes with positive messages for people all around the city. How could I not do this?

“Did the letter say something bad?” a voice asks me and I turn around to find Mr McDean again, watching me.

I fold the pages once again and smile brightly at him. I lost my smile when I started thinking of depression. It’s hard not to feel like grey clouds are gathering on top of you when you think about these things. But the letter actually made me happy. The plans ahead make me happy. This crazy hunt is making me happy and today is a good day.

“Oh no, the letter was lovely. It just triggered a train of thoughts that’s not very pleasant. That’s all,” I tell him with the best smile I have, that one that shows my dimples, the same dimples that my friend Moni likes to poke. The same dimples she says are the reason why we are friends. I miss her, and Mila and Havi. I will tell them all what I’ve done today and they surely will be happy for me. And I’ll show them pictures and it’ll be great. I’m sure they’ll be happy for me. They are already happy because I’m doing all this. A bit unease, but hopeful it’ll all go great.

“You have a lovely smile, dear. Have people told you that?” Mr McDean asks and I blush, remembering the time my psychologist told me that.

I might or might not have had a crush on him.

“Thank you,” I reply a bit embarrassed.

“He has a smile like yours, too. It makes people feel happy. That’s what I always tell him. That’s why people trust him so easily,” he laughs and my smile grows wider. I’ve never thought about the effect of my smile on people. To be honest, I don’t smile much. There’s a difference between a real smile and a polite smile, a fake one.

I don’t know what else to say and I don’t dare to ask him what he is thinking as he examines me. He knows my stranger and now he knows me. I wonder what he is thinking about us. He said we would get on wonderfully but is that true? We’ve been messaging each other for five months but it’s different. We’ve never been too personal. He never gave me his name. It’s not a conventional meeting. I think people who meet on the Internet know more about each other when they decide to actually meet. Just now we are exchanging letters… well, I’m reading the letters he’s leaving for me.

“Oh!” I exclaim when I remember the letter and what he told me at the end. “Oh, he says that I can’t forget to ask you for the camera and to… uh, to take a picture.”

“Oh right! I had forgotten about that. I’m sorry, dear. You can’t trust this old memory of mine,” he says tapping his temple and I just smile. He kneels slowly to pick something from under the stand and I just watch him until he is on his feet again. “Here it is. It’s his and he told me you have to take it with you. To take a picture at the end of each stop.”

Mr McDean hands me a Polaris instant camera, like the one the group at the café had and I smile brightly, imagining all the pictures I’ll collect today, and not just any pictures but the ones taken by an instant camera. For some reason I think those are more romantic than normal pictures.

I grab the camera and then look at Mr McDean. “Can I take a picture with you and the cats? To remember this day?” I ask and he smiles at me.

“Of course, dear. Come here,” he instructs me motioning me to go behind the stand with him. Then he grabs Desdemona so she can appear in the picture. Othello and Iago are gone and if I have to take the picture I can’t hold a cat.

I count three and take the picture and then turn the camera to grab the square piece of paper to fan it until an image starts to show. After a few seconds I can finally see Mr McDean and I. I don’t look good but it’s still a nice picture. It has feeling, even if I look like a zombie. The black bags under my eyes are my trademark already. My dyed red hair looks brighter in the picture, almost as if I were a natural ginger. Well, what you can see of my hair due to the hat I’m wearing.

“Thank you very much, Mr McDean,” I tell him and he nods with a smile. Then I pat Desdemona and turn to leave, but before I take a whole picture of the fair, with the kids playing and all the different stands with all the decoration. It’s a place that won’t be like this tomorrow and I want to remember it.

“Have a good day, dear,” Mr McDean says a last time and I smile happily at him.

“You too! Thank you again.”

I wave goodbye and finally walk away from the street, from the fair that made me so happy and from the new people I’ve met. I would really, really like to come back and talk about Shakespeare with Mr McDean or see other activities in this street. I loved the sense of community they have here and I wish more people were like them.

As I keep walking I grab my journal and put the two new pictures inside. I open the letter once again to look at the instructions and make sure I know how to get there. I hang the camera from my neck, I shove my journal inside the purse again and hang the bag with the new books I’ve acquired on my shoulder. It’s time to go see and help animals and have a great time and at the same time, time to collect a new letter. So far I have H, L and E. I have no clue what his name could be. Hell? I doubt a mother would be that cruel as to name her son Hell. Maybe L is from his surname. Hector Lewis. I don’t know but I think I would laugh if his name is Hector.

Well, I’ll only know when I collect more letters and for that I need to stop by an animal shelter first and that’s where I’m heading.

My stranger, thank you for doing this. I’m on my way.

-:-:-

Well... I said this story deals with depression but not in the "conventional" way. Now you've know a bit more about Maca and why she sometimes mentioned her difficulties to get up and her pills. Those are all part of her condition. It's not a state, it's a constant shadow that'll never leave.

Thank you for the 220 votes! Could you do 200 votes again for a new update? And remember best comment gets dedication ;)

Bel, xx

PS: you find me always on twitter @BelWatson