Lola was already tucked into bed, and Andrew habitually spent time with you before heading home. Currently, you were indulging in a ice lolly treat in the kitchen, with Andrew sitting across from you.

As the cozy silence enveloped the atmosphere, Andrew posed a serious question. “Have you ever been depressed?”

You responded calmly, sipping your ice lolly before answering, “I've always been depressed.”

Andrew's genuine curiosity had him inquire, “What's it like being depressed?”

You swallowed the remaining ice lollyfrom your mouth. “I don't know.” Your gaze, fixed on the kitchen counter, shifted upwards, meeting his gaze as you considered his question further. “It feels like...” you finally speak again. “like you don't remember what better feels like.”

Your eyes revealed an array of emotions as you shared your thoughts. “And then you do things that you think will make you feel better, but they don't. They make it worse.”

A brief pause ensued as you swallowed your saliva. And Andrew stopped sipping, keep listening to you until you finished. “And the things that I'm really scared of doing are probably the things that will help me the most, but I can't just do them.”

With a heartfelt response, Andrew shared a similar experience. “My mom is bipolar...” he divulged, biting the plastic ice lolly pack before continuing, “so she was really depressed a lot when I was a kid.”

Your gaze shifted to one of pity upon hearing this, but Andrew remained calm. “And, I one time asked her the same question and she said, ‘Sometimes it's just easier for people to be sad.’”

He sighed softly, lowering a pack of ice lolly from his mouth. “She tries though. Like, really tries.”

You interrupted him politely. “Everybody tries.”

Andrew hadn't stopped talking. “I understand that depression makes your brain think things that aren't true, but sometimes I just wish people like my mom would listen to, like, people instead of her brain.” He held his ice lolly in one hand. “And, like, good people, not shitty people.”