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A man with a long, scruffy beard and equally long, unkempt hair walked down the street. He looked young, probably around 22, but his eyes told a different story. They were the kind of eyes that would remain indifferent even if someone placed a crown on his head and said you are the king. He wouldn't feel a shred of joy.
This is how depression looks.
My name is Ganesh.
I live in a middle-class village family with flawed parents who did their best with what they had to raise me. I used to think society failed me, but the truth is, I failed society. I failed my parents.
Depression is terrible. It traps you in a worldview where nothing brings you joy. It feels like you're living every day in the filthiest clothes, as if even your own skin disgusts you. The World Health Organization ranks depression fourth in the global burden of diseases, and I can see why.
Anyway, keep to myself, I drag my miserable existence.
...
while walking down the street, He noticed a car speeding toward him at 60 km/h. A young girl, probably around 10 years old, was walking beside him. The car was expensive, the kind only the rich can afford. Inside was a group of drunk teenagers, no older than 18.
In that moment, He knew He was going to die.
A primordial fear gripped him, making his heart pound like a drum. His brain went into overdrive, and everything slowed down. He could see the car moving closer, the distance between shrinking. He realised. He could dodge the car if He wanted to.
But the girl beside him couldn't.
He knows if he doesn't do anything, she's going to die.
For a moment, various thoughts flash in his mind. She is young, full of potential. On the other side of him, a failed existence. He should die.
They say the closer a man comes to despair, the closer he is to God. In that moment, he made his decision. He pushed the girl out of the car's path.
The result?
He died instantly.