Having depression is a horrifying endeavor. Restless nights, virulent disquiet throughout the day. But over all these years it has shown me that there is a bittersweet note to sadness. It emphasizes moments of happiness and makes them all the more glorious. It has both weakened me into a derelict state and then rebuilt me even more resilient than I was before. I find that when I’m happy, I even begin to miss my sadness in a strange way. And I am not frightened by that; one should accept turmoil just as one accepts success. They create one another and great joy doesn’t come without first great pains or intermissions of struggle. It gives life facets. The greatest stories wouldn’t be great without that luminous anguish.