Negative thought patterns. That's what they said he had. And it was true, he could see it himself. He wasn't stupid. The thing was, they wanted him to go to a psychiatrist and change those thought patterns to some positive ones. But he didn't want to. It wouldn't work anyways. He was simply not worth it. Not good enough. People often said he was perfect, that he was talented and blah blah blah. But it wasn't true. They knew it too, they were just trying to cheer him up. Despite that, he always put up a cheerful image. Laughed, smiled, joked, anything to make others smile. But no matter how much he laughed, smiled and joked, he was never truly happy. There was always this hollow feeling in the depth of his heart, killing him slowly. It was that hollow feeling that made his life a living hell. It was that hollow feeling of never being good enough no matter how much he fought that made him cry silently whenever he was alone. And now his parents had found out because he had over talked and sent him to a psychiatrist to find out what was wrong with him. Depression was the answer.

He had been honest to the psychiatrist, he hated lying. So when he told him he knew he would kill himself one day when he was tired of this world, the psychiatrist freaked out and gave him pills. On top of that he assigned him to come talk to him once every two weeks until he got better. As if that would help. The pills were now in the trashcan. He had seen a documentary where it told him placebo's were as effective as actual pills except if you have major depression. And that's not what he had. He just had a normal ordinary depression that had lasted so long he couldn't remember how it was to be truly happy. All there was was this black hole where his heart was supposed to be, so all the happy feelings and thoughts were away never to felt again.
He was close to breaking down again. And that couldn't happen. Not in front of his friends who were happily laughing and joking with each other. No what he needed to do was get the away from them so he could go cry in a corner. Maybe he would find a razor and try cutting himself? He'd been wondering how that felt lately, since so many ended up doing it. Did it really feel better as people said? Did it take away the pain in your heart? Getting up from his seat, he excused himself from his surprised friends and walked away. The breakdown would come soon, he could feel it. Reaching a small park not far from where he and his friends had drank coffee at a cafe, he entered and walked through the windy paths, looking for a secluded place where he could cry in peace.

A little path winding its way through the trees, unnoticed by everyone else, caught his eye and he turned down it. Not long after he reached a small clearing with a bench at the edge. This would be the perfect place to cry. Sitting down, he let go of all staggering control and let the tears roll down his cheeks. His shoulders were shaking with sobs. He didn't know exactly why he was crying, he was just so empty. Always so empty. Hollow. His phone vibrated in his pocket a couple of times, but he had no intention of answering now. If it was important, then they'd call again or text him whatever it was.

An hour later, when he had calmed down and sat staring into thin air, thoughts of returning to society reached him. It was time to put on his mask and leave this peaceful place. He stood up and stretched his aching limbs and rubbed his cold . It wasn't exactly warm outside, though not warm enough to keep away a freezing after an hour of no movement. Spring wasn't his favorite season with all its shifting weather. It was too much like his own mood. One second he would feel fine and barely noticed that hollow feeling, the next it filled everything and was unbearable. That's what happened in the cafe. Suddenly everything felt like it was too much. His constant facade, the happy laughs, everything. It was so unfair how his friends didn't have to deal with this constant feeling of never being happy. All he wanted was to be happy. Just once.

Exiting the park, he remembered the phone call he had gotten earlier. Fishing out his phone from his pocket, he looked at a message telling him he had an unanswered call and unheard voice mail. Calling the given number in the message to hear the voice mail, he put the phone to his ear. He followed the thousands of directions of numbers he needed to press before finally coming to the voice mail so he could hear it.

“Hey where did you go? You just suddenly left. And why aren't you answering your phone? Well anyways, give me a call when you hear this, I'm worried,” the voice said through the phone before a beep was heard and the lady in the phone started giving him directions for what he should press if he wanted to listen to it again or whatever. He smiled slightly. How cute. After he had the voice mail deleted, he called up the person who had called him. Better to calm down his friend. We couldn't have him thinking something was wrong now, could we?

“Yo,” his friend answered through the phone a few seconds later.

“Hey, you called?” he said to his friend, keeping a wondering tone laced into his words. Better not sound like something was wrong.

“Hey where did you go? You got us worried!” his friend exclaimed through the phone. He laughed shortly.

“I'm sorry,” he apologized. “I had totally forgotten about an appointment I had made and needed to get there as quickly as possible. I'm sorry if I worried you guys,” he explained, lying, with another apology.

“Yeah we were worried about you. You never act like that. How could you forget an appointment? You have like perfect memory!” his friend rambled, with worry in his voice. He needed to get that worry away. Asure him everything was fine.

“I'm really sorry, I've just had a lot on my mind lately,” he explained, only somewhat twisting the truth this time.

“Anything you want to talk about? I'm all ears if you need me,” his friend offered and he felt a smile on his face. His friend was so nice. He didn't deserve him as a friend, yet for some reason he stuck around. Not that he was complaining about that.

“Nah, it's just the oncoming exams and what not. Lots to do in so little time and so many subjects to study for,” he told his friend, lying once again. He lied a lot to his friends. Gut twisting guilt hit him every time, but it was better than telling them the truth. It was after all his job to keep them safe and happy. And they wouldn't be happy if he told them the truth. For reasons beyond him, they cared about him enough to worry when he seemed slightly down. In return he lied, never showed them the real him, but kept them happy and helped them with their problems. He owed them that for lying all the time. He cared about them.

“Ok, but if you need it, then I'm right here ok?” his friend told him seriously and a tiny part of his heart warmed, making him want to cry.
“I know Yongguk. Thanks. I'll tell you if something is wrong, don't worry,” he promised his friend, lying yet again. The guilt twisted his gut, but a tiny place in his heart was still warm from his friend's words. “I'll see you tomorrow at school,” he told his friend who said goodbye and the two hung up. It was a wonderful thought to think, that his friends actually cared for him and didn't do it out of pity. So unreal and so wonderful a thought. He was going to cry again. But first he needed to get somewhere secluded so no one could see. Hopefully he could make it home before he broke down again. He was only a couple of blocks away now.

As soon as he reached home, he rushed through the house and got to the farthest corner that consisted of his room. Inside, he dived into his bed and for the second time that day, he cried tears of pain. How nice it would be to have a friend. A friend that took care of him instead of him taking care of everyone else. It was tiring when you had to keep up a facade at the same time. And that hollow feeling grew worse, bigger. He didn't know for how long he cried or for how long he stared at his ceiling, numb for the second time that day, but it was interrupted too soon.

“Himchan!” he heard his mother's voice yell through the house from the front door. She was home. Rubbing his face a little, he got out of his bed and headed towards his returned mother. One thing he was thankful for, yet hated so much at the same time, no matter how much he had cried, it couldn't be seen on his face. No red eyes or anything like that. It really came in hand when you had a facade to keep. Some part of him wished it could be seen though, so he couldn't keep his mask on so easily. He wasn't strong enough to break it himself. But then again, he didn't deserve to break it.

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Chapter one...

Peace out (^_^)v