Depression is like an anchor.
It holds me down. Holds me back. Holds me together.
It is responsible for every bad thought I have, yet also the reason why I am still holding on.
Bad feelings are still feelings all the same.
There's a sort of comfort in depression. In hating yourself. It gives you something to do. Something to focus on.
Giving in to it is a hell of a lot easier than trying to fix it. I hold on to the sadness. I'm almost afraid to let it go. Afraid that if I do, I'll lose a piece of me. It's been a part of me for way too long. If I let go, I am nothing.
I am not nothing yet.
YOU ARE READING
OLLY.
Teen FictionOliver Otis Shepherd wants to die. There is too much bad in the world for him to want to stay. Between his ex-boyfriend completely obliterating his heart and his own self-destructive habits, it is all just too much. Olly feels that he has seen his d...
