It was a fine spring day when I heard of it. At that moment everything seemed to go from peaceful to unbearably noisy; and truthfully, I just really wanted to go deaf. Just when everything was going well, or at least I thought they were, there were still loose ends. There were so many things going on through my head:

Should I just end it now?

Is it even worth going through until the end?

 Is this the end?

End?

End?

I found myself thinking about the end more than a couple of times a day. I didn't worry, though. I only thought and thought. All my sentences in mind included that word. Messing with my own mind just went on endlessly. And right here and now, I just used ‘end’ again.

I never thought about doing what most depressed people did. I had my principles. I tried my best to channel my lost vigor for life through less noticeable and less tiring means. I locked myself in my room for x number of days, I really lost count. I just stared blankly through my window, thinking about random things.  I just needed time to think, since it was somehow what I always do. I skipped school  and so my grades dropped. My friends in school began texting me, “What’s wrong?” “Is something the matter?” “When are you coming back?”

No, I was wrong. It was just a friend.

It was the homeroom teacher.

But then, she’s forced to care.

Everything seemed to fall apart from there on.