Tiny Write by TrackStar123, June 22 2025

The frosting was vanilla, I knew without tasting. Everything was always vanilla. Vanilla walls, vanilla smiles, vanilla expectations. Today was my fifteenth birthday. Or, more accurately, today was the day I was supposed to be happy about turning fifteen.

Sect.2

The first memory I have is the color gray. Not the soft, calming gray of rain clouds, but the suffocating gray of a hospital room. My mom, holding a faded bouquet in her hand, looked like she wanted to disappear. Dad, a statue sculpted from worry, just kept patting my head, saying that everything was going to be fine. I was four. They told my parents that I had a fever that wouldn't break. Which, apparently to a four-year-old, sounds very deadly. I lived, obviously, but something shifted that day. The world lost its color, replaced with that dark and suffocating gray.

Sect.3

School was like a world of hateful whispers. "Kaliah's weird. "She never smiles." "Is she even listening?" I was listening. I was always listening, absorbing the words like a sponge. But it all felt...distant. Like watching a musical though a dirty window. The emotions were there, but muted, muffled.

Sect.4

My drawings were the only place I felt alive and real. Dark, swirling landscapes with old, hollow trees and shadowed figures filled the charcoal smudged paper. My art teacher, Mrs. Davis, saw something in them. "Kaliah," She'd say, her voice soft, "there's so much pain in these, but so much beauty too. Don't be afraid to show it."

Sect.5

Show it? How could I show something I didn't understand? The emptiness inside wasn't a feeling. It was an absence. A black hole sucking in all the joy, leaving only a hollow ache.

Sect.6

Therapy started when I was twelve. Dr. Lee was kind, with a gentle smile. I told her about the grayness, about the weight in my chest, the constant exhaustion that clung to me like sweat. She listened, nodded, and prescribed pills that promised to bring the color back. They didn't. They just added a layer of fuzz to the gray.

Sect.7

And that was when I knew, I was simply broken. Unhappy. Depressed.

Sect.8

Social media wasn't a big help, either. It felt as if it were a carefully designed nightmare hidden under everyone's happy and perfect lives, that only the insecure people saw it for what it really was. It's almost as it's a two-way mirror. One side, you are looking in, seeing all of the perfect and happy lives, while you are on the other side feeling insecure and unhappy. The other side, you are stuck, trapped, inside the center of comparison. And that was exactly how I felt. Compared. Trapped. Unhappy. Everyone else's lives were a vibrant explosion of parties, laughter, and flawless skin. My own felt like a slow-motioned train wreck, witnessed only by me. The pressure to be "normal," which in my case, was to be happy, was crushing.

Sect.9

There were some good days, I'll admit. Days when the gray lifted slightly, when a genuine laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside. A funny video, a shared joke with Mrs. Davis, a hopeful moment of connection. But those moments were like fireflies - brief and gone before I could truly grasp them.

Sect.10

My fourteenth birthday was a blur of polite smiles and forced gratitude. I remember staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, a stranger staring back. Dark circles under my eyes, hair limp and lifeless. I made a decision that night. I decided I would stop pretending that I was happy. Because pretending meant that I was fine with feeling this way. It meant that it was just a temporary thing. 

Sect.11

So, here I am. Fifteen candles flicker on the vanilla cake. My parents are singing; their voices laced with forced cheer. My brother Leo is trying to make me laugh, his usual goofy grin strained. I force a smile, a reflex I have mastered over years of practice.

Sect.12

I blow out the candles, make a wish, and head upstairs.

Sect.13

I slip to my window and look out at the city. The city lights look like fallen stars against inky blackness. I think about Mrs. Davis and her kind eyes. I think about Leo and his stupid jokes. And I think about the brief moments when the gray has faded, leaving me feeling almost...alive.

Sect.14

But the weight is too heavy. It has been for many years. And I am just now noticing it.

Sect.15

This isn't a cry for help, I realize. It's a surrender...

Tysm (Thank you so much) for taking the time to read this! I love writing about mental health and overcoming the hard and painful struggles that come with depression. Depression is a very hard thing to deal with, whether it's someone in real life or even a made-up character. No one is perfect. And even the most popular girl in school or the fastest guy on the football team have their imperfections or their flaws. Whether it's a physical or mental imperfection, just know that you are not the only one, and that you matter...

Kaliah and I are very similar: Kaliah deals with severe depression, and so do I.

She also feels as if her world is a fading shimmer of light, that only brightens when she does the thing that she enjoys most.

And that would be drawing.

In my case, it would be writing poetry, writing short novels and even reading.

If you anyone want to know more about what happens in this short version of Fifteen Candles, then please let me know in the comments! BTW, I am writing another version of fifteen candles that is a full-length short novel, and it will be all about Kaliah's life up until her very last day... Many of you might be able to guess how she dies, but I won't spoil it for the few that don't know. 

Again, tysm for taking the time to read this! :)

P.S

If you have any ideas for the longer version of Fifteen Candles, then please feel free to let me know! FWI: The ending of Fifteen Candles will probably involve Section 1, Section 2, Part of Section 3, Section 4, Section 6, Part of Section 8, Section 10, Section 11, Section 12, Section 13, and Section 15.

So, basically, the ending will just be  the whole first version of Fifteen Candles, if that makes sense :)

Also, there will obviously be a lot more to the story in the beginning, middle, and a little bit in the ending.

(And yes, in the longer version I will use every exact word in each section that I am using, so that it will seem as if it is the OG (Original) Version of Fifteen Candles, but just a little longer with some more additional key info, etc.

If you have any questions then please write them in the comments, I will be more than happy to answer them!

   Thanks!!! (Sorry for the long conclusion, lol.)