Struggle inside, happy outside. This has always been mine and my family's motto. She was an extremely cheerful lady. I was a teenager back then, when my sister was diagnosed with depression. Some doctors said she had OCD, some said depression, some said bipolar disease. Some stuck her in a pile of pills. Some tried to get her committed. And my parents tried to hide it from everyone and made us pretend we are a happy little family. They are not bad parents. They tried their best with what they knew back then. Somedays she would isolate herself and cry. Other days, she would scream, fight, throw things. Back then, I would run to the terrace of our house, stick my fingers in my ears, and would start to sing and pretend not to hear all the screaming and shouting. One day while sitting on the terrace ledge thinking how do I get my sister to feel better? She does not realise how much we all love her. i wondered- what if I jump off this ledge? maybe I will die, maybe i will break my legs. Maybe, then my sister would have my parents all to herself and feel better loved. More than a decade later, I am an adult. She got married, and wanted to stop her medication. She did it and relapsed. Now, she barely talks to anyone and lies on the bed all day long and refuses to take her medication/see a doctor. On the outside, I am a happy person to be around. But, struggling inside with the helplessness of not knowing how to help my sister. I was thinking about the extreme step I was thinking of taking a decade before. I knew I could not do that, and abandon my loved ones. Couldn't stop thinking about my helplessness, burst into tears and felt I had to vent somewhere to keep my sanity.