"Mr Schue. I know we're all a little dramatic sometimes. But I don't think anyone will ever consider taking their own life." Mercedes, of course. So sweet, but sometimes the poor girl just has no idea.

But do any of them?

"I did."

All eyes turn to Tina.

"But… you're so happy?" Quinn is the only one to voice her shock.

Mike gets up and moves closer to Tina as she blushes, looking down. "I try to be."

"But… You've always seemed happy… Even when you had no friends, and…"

"When you were head cheerleader and top of the school and didn't look at us, let alone begin to understand us?" She draws in a breath. She needs them to understand. To understand it can happen to anybody. To explain herself. Not that she really knows what she's explaining. "I thought I was happy." She smiles, dark, humourless, at some irony only she can see. "Until one day, I realised I wasn't."

"When?" Mike has an arm around her, fingers lightly tracing the scars lining her hand. He knows – he's seen that side of her. But he doesn't know the extent. None of them do.

"When did I realise?" Another inhalation. Keep breathing. You can't speak without breathing. The whole room is silent now, like you could hear a pin drop on the carpeted floor all the way in the back row. "Would have been pretty early in freshman year… I was happy. At least, I thought I was. But slowly, day by day, a filter started getting put on it, and the colours were slowly turning to grey. So slowly you barely realise it. Until one day you find that all the colours have gone, and it's all black, and you're left with no idea how you got there, or where you came from, or how you're going to get back."

"But you have everything." Quinn still looked confused. "You didn't get kicked out of home, you didn't fall pregnant, you're not gay, you can walk. What could you possibly have that's – "

"For God's sake, Quinn, just shut up and let her speak." Tina's surprised to hear Kurt interrupt her so harshly, so crudely, so removed from his usual intelligent sarcasm. Instinctive. Protective. She gazes into his eyes, watching that tiny, sad smile. He understands.

"No, Quinn. You're right. Compared to so many of you, my life really isn't that bad." Another tiny smile. "But that's the thing. You think depression discriminates? That's the difference between being depressed, and having depression. You, Quinn. Your life. The things that happened to you. They made you depressed.

"Me? I have depression. I've been fighting it for a couple of years now. It just… it starts, and you don't even realise, but once it's taken hold of you, you can't shake it off. No matter how lucky you are in life." Mike pulls her closer and she melts into his warmth. She's almost surprised to find herself shaking. "Sometimes, Quinn, it's the happiest, wealthiest people that surprise you – the people that have everything. Because when you have everything, you run out of dreams. And what's life without dreams?" Her whole body shivers this time as she's drawn back into that place. Those memories. Such hurt inside. A blade slicing into her palm, ripping the skin, trying to mimic everything she'd internalised. She means to just sigh, but it turns into a sob, a hideous moan of melancholy. Pathetic. "I'm sorry. Just… even remembering that place terrifies me."

They let her have a moment, just trying to absorb what's been said. Sugar's light hand awkwardly patting her shoulder makes her open her eyes again and look at the circle.

Kurt's staring at her hand – the one she's holding close to her body, her thumb, a mind of its own, running along the lines, the ones that only she can tell are too deep, too white, too shiny. He's pulling the sleeves of his jacket over his own wrist, clamping it there, one hand idly in his lap, one hand pressed to his face. Wrists turned inwards. "Tina… how far did you fall?"

She looks at her hand too, realising what she's doing. She stops, debating sitting on it, trying to forget about it. She doesn't want to let them know her weakness. But finally she stops tracing, holds out her left arm to the group, palm face up with fingers pointing to the ground. "My first cut." She runs a finger along her lifeline – the scar only she can see. "I just… it hurt so much. Everything. And I'd read about people cutting, how they felt like they could get some control back into their life, how it was a form of expressing their inner pain. The article was meant to discourage it, but all the wrong messages stuck. And one day I was just feeling so powerless. So out of control. Things were fine with my life. I was still getting okay grades. But I was just so unhappy, and there was nothing I could do about it.

"So first I traced everything with a ruler. I didn't want scars. Even then, I knew that in the future I would hate to look back and be reminded constantly of that imperfection. That weakness. So I jammed the ruler into me.

Which did nothing. Of course. But by that stage, I was in it for good. A ruler had no effect. Barely even felt it, let alone cause any pain. So I pulled out a pair of scissors. And without really thinking about it, I drew straight down my lifeline. I figured when the cut healed over, I wouldn't see the scar any more." Mike picks up the hand, kissing the palm. And she knows she has to continue. "But once you start… you're doomed. It was such a tiny act. I wasn't hurting anyone, only myself. But it was that tiny amount of power that kept me going back to the blades. The pain inside, I couldn't control. But by taking that pain out, I was refusing to let it rule my life. I could fight back."

Rachel is gazing at her, tears flowing down her cheeks. "And we never noticed."

"I knew how to hide it," is all Tina says. Not qualifying. Whether they think back and remember noticing the oddly-placed bandaids and roller bandages is up to them.

"But, suicide?" Quinn chokes on the word, her voice softer now, gentler.

"I want to make this clear to you all now," Tina commands, her voice much stronger, more like her normal self. "I never attempted. And, I can't say for certain, but if I keep up the way I've been the last nearly two years, I never will." She almost laughs, remembering back. "I was still somewhat rational. There was always that part holding me back, telling me that even though I didn't see it as selfish, that other people would, and that they would be offended if I just… went through with it. And thank God for that rational part of my brain." Breathe. Breathe. In and out. Too deep now, have to continue. "That's not to say I didn't think about it. Dream about it. Dying, that is. My favourite was when a gunman came into the school and I jumped in front of a bullet for someone. So that I could die a hero. Without people knowing how much of a coward I was. How weak."

Kurt's reddening eyes snap up at those words, lock into hers. "Tina." He crawls across the circle to her, hand clamps onto her wrist, tight, not letting go. "You are not weak. That you're still here, telling us this. It's one of the strongest things you've done."

She squeezes his hand as he draws away and sits down – this time in Blaine's lap.

"But, what got you out of it?" It's Mercedes again, looking so confused and hurt and worried and… Tina can't even work out what.

"To be honest, you guys did play a role, no matter how small." She looks directly at Mr Schue now, trying to thank him. "I know mostly I isolated myself. But music is such an escape, isn't it? I could come into Glee, be with similar people, and just release some of that tension I had building up inside. It was small – but singing really does bring me joy. And I really only rediscovered that on this stage.

"But I couldn't have done it all without Matt." Now she's squeezing Mike's hand – she knows they were really good friends. "He just… saw something in me. Like he knew. And I saw something in him. So one day, I just decided to write him a letter. It all just got too much for me. But, I handed it to him. And he wrote back.

"I still have that letter today. I still see his handwriting. Him telling me that killing myself would be stupid. Telling me that the self-harm was selfish. I don't even know how he knew to use that against me. But it was so bizarre. And it stuck with me. I tried so hard to see how hurting myself was hurting others.

"Of course, it was worrying them. Putting so much strain on them. Especially my parents. I mean, can you imagine seeing your child go through something like that, being so powerless to stop it? Having no idea where to even begin?" She shakes her head. "It still haunts me, what I put everyone through.

"Especially Matt. He was in senior year. And still he gave me his number, stood by me. The amount of midnight calls he got… Whenever I slipped up, he'd be the first to know. If I was having a bad day, he'd end up calling me anyway.

"But more than that. He actually made me want to get help. Let me think I deserved to be happy, that I was abnormal to be this deep. That there was so much out there for me. But I had to want to look for it."

She's crying now, only softly, mostly tears of gratitude. "Thanks to him, I saw a therapist of my own free will. I owe him my life."

Brittany's smiling at her. "I'm really glad you didn't kill yourself, Tina. That would have been, like, super bad for Mike."

Mike kisses her chin. "I agree, Brittany."

Blaine's rocking with Kurt in his lap, hands smoothing over Kurt's wrists, chin nuzzling into his neck to give him support – and Tina knows her story isn't all that different from Kurt's. Blaine opens his mouth, but Tina jumps the gun – she has every class with him, they can practically read minds. "You want to know how long it's been."

Blaine closes his mouth and nods.

She sighs. "I'd be lying to you if I said I hadn't slipped up. If the thought of it never crosses my mind. Because I do still think of it, and I have gone into past habits. I mean… it sounds like an exaggeration, but it really is an addiction. Once you start relying on it, once it starts becoming your coping mechanism. Now, you can trust me with scissors. It's only when I get into that state of mind. But I'm strong. I fight it." Her eyes are lighter now, almost proud. "I haven't thought about it in almost a month. I haven't harmed myself in 3."

Puck transitions from his fierce, protective look to a huge grin. "That's great, Tina!"

The whole circle looks similarly relieved.

"And I'm a lot better off than I was then," she reassures her friends. "Sure, I still get bad moods. Sure, I get depressed. I mean, I'm female." The girls nod knowingly. "But, nowadays, I can wake up in the morning and be happy. Which is all that I need, really. To know that I can be happy. Like anything, there are good days and bad days. But now, I have more good days than bad." She smiles, standing up and beckoning the others to join her. "And you all make life worth living. You make the good days amazing, and the bad ones that little bit easier to push through."

The group move inwards. One of those rare moments where they are more than a family. They're one heart, one soul.

Despite everything she's told them, though, Tina is desperate to reassure her that she is the same person. So when Mr Schue asks them what they're looking forward, her gentle nature and bright humour shine through as she answers off the bat – "I just want a song!"

Hi guys.

So a heap of people have been writing variations on the New Directions circle. And - here comes the hate - I actually liked Mr Schue's story. But I think depression would have been a really interesting thing to discuss. I've seen a few Blaine ones floating around Tumblr too. But I was thinking back to when I was in that situation. And, in all honesty, I was a lot like Tina - hence why I've chosen to use her. This is my story.

I'm sharing it with you for a few reasons. I guess, most selfishly, is because I've been thinking back to the horror I went through in year 7 - I was 13, and my first year of high school, when I was diagnosed. And I've wanted to write this down but never really found the strength to, until now.

Also, because I want to prove to you that there is hope. It's taken a long time. It still is. But I am so much better now. I haven't harmed myself in close to 6 months - before that, it was almost a year, and before that I was going on 5 years. If I can do it, then you definitely can too!

To show you all as well, that I understand. People don't believe me a lot of the time when I say I fight depression. I wear colourful clothing, I have a huge smile, I'm pretty outgoing and friendly, I sing... Hell, I even tried stand-up comedy. But when I tell them about my scars (which are hidden in natural folds on my left arm, mainly) and how I used to think... it shocks them. So, I guess, just be aware. Like Tina says - depression doesn't discriminate. You don't have to have a shitty life to have a mental illness.

I had my own Matt though. Who was such an amazing help. And I really believe I owe her my life - if she hadn't reached out to me, I would have given up fighting a long time ago.

I know I say this at the end of almost everything I write... but if you need help with anything, whether it be advice or just someone to vent to - I'm here. I care. You don't have to go through this alone. Just like me, you deserve happiness - and I truly believe that you have the strength and courage to seek it. But if you need a hand finding it, or a kick up the bum sometimes, or a hand to hold - anything. Please, come talk to me. Or to a friend. Don't do it alone.

You can PM me any time. And my Tumblr ask box (pi-on-a-skateboard(.)tumblr(.)com) is always open, anytime, for any reason.

Enough with my soap-boxness.

The only other thing I want to point out is the title - it's taken from The Fray song, Happiness. It's absolutely beautiful, with some of the most powerful imagery and it's a joy to read, let alone listen to. So you should all go check it out!

Alright. I'm done.

I'd love to hear your stories/feedback/anything you want to send.

Like it? Hate it? Want me to be transformed into a sago pearl and drunk with some green apple green tea? Please let me know!

Keep smiling! :D

Love,

Steph