Depression, Bipolar Disorder, Schizophrenia, General Paranoia

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Narrative argument
It is common to hear of a friend or colleague complain about that jerking knee all day long, or that headache that will not go away irrespective of the number of painkillers they have swallowed. What surprises me is the reaction of these very people when you mention that you are depressed. For some reason, mental pain is not enough to be recognized by people as actual pain. Statements like “I am depressed’’ or ‘’I am unhappy” are brushed off. This is the sole reason why people have learned to bottle up their emotions until they snap, and then we begin to question why we never read between the lines. In the recent past, cases of suicide have been on the rise. The mental health awareness crusade has however gone a long way to lower this number. Mental health has not been fully accepted in modern day society and seeing a therapist is looked down upon as being weak and sick. Most people, however, do not understand that depression, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia or just general paranoia is indeed a disease that needs to be treated. A bruised mind is the most dangerous wound as it is unseen yet causes the most damage. The brain is as powerful as we make it.
Guilt, guilt is the utmost level of self-crucifixion that anyone would ever have to endure wondering what if you did more. I will call him Tom. He was my brother. Tom was the most jovial guy I ever knew. Tom was the life of the house, and I did enjoy growing up together, we had the best childhood anyone would ever want. He was chatty and had this smile that would brighten every inch of the room, this kind of warmth that was hard to ignore. Those who interacted with him can vouch for him. He was the ultimate boy next door. Over the years Tom was that kid that every parent was proud of. He was on the football team; he even got a scholarship to MIT. Most of us those were just dreams in the distance. Being younger than me, this was no small fete. Seeing him grow up and be that great was perhaps my proudest moment in life. It gave me a sense of pride. We were all so proud of him until all hell broke loose.
The date was 10th September 2015. It remains to be the darkest day in my life, those days you would not wish to remember, but it’s just there, stuck on your mind and there is nothing you can do about it, just a regular beautiful day. I walked up to the attic on a routine cleanup and found Tom there just dangling lifelessly from the ceiling. Chair knocked over. God knows the amount of effort I had put to try to save him, find a pulse just doing anything to make him breathe again. All I recall is running down the stairs...