A/N: Sorry if this one’s a little too artsy. Ehh. My writing gets weirdly abstract at 3AM and I don’t want to proofread. Someone requested I write this one next so here it is~ Again. I’m sorry that this one is so conceptual but I don’t know how to write about someone being depressed any other way D:

It was grey outside. A dull, monotonous grey that hung like smoke over the atmosphere. Everything stood still and lifeless, a dimensionless painting splattered over the flat canvas. Inside you felt cold, hollow like the empty space around you. In this moment nothing progressed, nothing moved. The world was flat and broken and lightless and you were trapped in the middle like a butterfly stuck to the center of a spider’s web.

Inescapable. Even as your friends laughed around you, your insides felt lost and confused. Places and people you once loved were now images sliding around you like a motion picture you were watching from a living room with no doors.

Your smile was as fake as plastic, plastered like errant graffiti on dirty concrete. Your laugh sounded void and unnatural. It came from your head, not your heart. With time you had grown skilled, waving pretend emotions and responses like a puppeteer at a show. No one clued into your sinking disposition, and even your boyfriend was blissfully unaware.  

It was growing unbearable, like the constant, incessant ticking of a grandfather clock that no one had the motivation to push away. You bit at your nails, picked at your scars, scratched at the scabbed skin until you felt you were going insane.

Was the world even worth your time? You felt like a drain, pulling happiness and value and importance from every life around you, dragging the contents deeper and deeper down dark pipes to nowhere.

Nowhere. You were lost, a shadow of the person you used to be. Crying for help seemed like a hopeless cause. In your dimmed eyes, this world had grown devoid of hope.

It was the nothingness that overwhelmed you. There was a bag of pills you kept hidden in the closet, and when you were crushed by doubts you held it in your hands. You counted them, stopping each time when you reached the number that the bottle warned would end your life. Little escapes, packed tightly into shiny capsules that were dyed the brightest colors you could see in your vision.

Today, you decided, was the perfect conclusion. Your story had culminated to an ultimate point of nothingness. You were worth nothing, your life void of any meaning. Everyone who claimed to care was burdened by you, and you felt it was time to make your departure.

The tablets were warm in your palm. You spared no time in tossing your head back, letting each capsule fall deliberately down the back of your throat. Lying down on your bed, you waited. A phantom of a smile graced your lips. Finally, you would be free.

*

The doors slammed open as EMT’s carrying a stretcher hurried into your bedroom. Your boyfriend stood to the side, still holding his phone in his hand. He had walked into your bedroom in concern, only to be greeted by the sight of you lying unconscious, the evidence of a botched attempt at suicide spread repugnantly over your shirt and sheets.

He cried, for you and for the months you had spent suffering silently. For the days he noticed your phony smile and wrote it off as mood swings. For the fate that could have befallen you if the pills had stayed down.

You awoke in a hospital, greeted by the wounded expression marking your boyfriend’s face.

“You could have told me. I could have gotten you help.” He cried without shame. “You would have died and left me here all alone!” You felt a creeping guilt crawl viciously from your belly.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. He shook his head.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.” Sighing, he brushed his thumb over the top of your hand. “You’re going to be okay now.”

Time and fate had cooperated for once, and like a warrior you had begun to heal. Recovery was twisting path, but was lined with its own marvels. And you weren’t alone. Your boyfriend walked with you, navigating the path for you with your hand in his.