I've suffered from depression and anxiety from a young age, and over the years, the desire to simply stop existing for a while--and perhaps hand over the reins of my life to somebody more qualified in the meantime--has become a familiar one. There's a hint of wish-fulfilment in this story, I think. The idea of a benevolent ghost who'll swoop in and fix things while you take a nice, soothing nap is quite seductive.
It's not a real-world solution, of course--and it wouldn't be healthy or ethical if it were. There's a paternalism inherent in making decisions about someone's life while they're not around to voice an opinion. And when aid is conditional on somebody else deciding you deserve it, what happens when a more compelling victim comes along? That's why it can't, ultimately, be only the narrator's well-intentioned meddling that spurs Serena to find a way to manage her depression. It has to be her own desire to regain control of her life. The narrator does manage to help her, but maybe not in the way they expect.
With this story, I also wanted to push back against the romanticising of mental illness, particularly in the creative professions. It's something I bought into hard when I was younger, and it can be so damaging. The dead artists whose pictures Serena pins on her walls are famous partly because of their tragic ends, but imagine how much more great work they might have created if they'd got the help they needed.
Thanks for sharing, J.L.!