Stitches ~ Scömìche

I'll Be Needing Stitches

Mitch didn't want to admit it. He didn't want to admit it to Scott, he didn't want to admit it to himself. He had gone back to the therapist, and was diagnosed with major depression. He took the pills home with him, and placed them in his bedside table not wanting anyone to see them. He was never going to take them. He wasn't depressed. He was fine. He was... fine...

Oh how he wished that were true. How he wished that he could say that everything was okay without the words leaving the dirty taste of lying in his mouth. He couldn't go on pretending, but he couldn't admit to himself that he needed the pills, that he needed help. Maybe Abe wasn't his worst enemy any longer... Maybe it was him. Maybe spending as long as he did with Abe, turned him into a monster that was slowly consuming himself. 

"Depression is like living in a body that fights to survive, with a mind that tries to die."

"Deep inside, where nothing's fine, I've lost my mind."

"I haven't felt alright for a really long time." 

"I'm exhausted from trying to be stronger than I am."

"If you could read my mind, you'd be in tears."

"I say I'm fine, but on the inside, I'm screaming for help."

"It really sucks, because I was getting better... And now I'm not."

"I've said 'I'm fine', a hundred fucking times. I wish you would look at me and say, 'don't lie'."

"There is nothing to love about me."

"Depression is like a war. You either win, or die trying."

Afterall...

"Suicidal people... are just angels who want to go home."