There was this boy, and he used to go to library every day after lessons ended. I would sit and watch from behind the shelves, as he read book after book.
This boy was shy.
This boy was quiet.
This boy was in his own little world.
One day as I peeked from my place behind the shelves, the boy had a new book in his hand. It was much thicker than the others. It was titled "How To Deal With Depression."
I watched the boy read it for hours; flipping page after page. He eventually went to the counter to checked it out, tucking it under his arm as he walked home in the rain.
The kids didn't like this boy.
Nor did they like the clothes he wore.
They had always made fun of him for his nerdy glasses that had been taped together. And laughed at his hard working attitude.
One day after lessons I had went to the library and peeked over the shelves. But the boy wasn't there like he usually was; I was afraid he had hurt himself.
At school the next day the halls were quiet.
And the bullies' eyes wouldn't leave the floor.
Apparently that boy from the library had went home that rainy day and left a note in the book he had taken home.
He thanked his pet cat, which was his only friend, for being there to listen to him. He also spoke of the beautiful girl hid in the library.
He had placed the note on his desk chair; before kicking it out underneath him.
"The funny thing is, even though I know you never think about me, I still think about you. All the time. And it kills me to know that you're so close, but yet so far away. I think that's the hardest part actually; being near you, knowing that you wish to be nowhere near me," The boy explained, pacing his room.
It's not really when you feel sad. Or even when you feel angry. To be honest... I'm not quite sure what it is, but I know it's there. It's not the weight of the world or the random sobbing. Or the hatred and irritation to those around you.
It's the blankness.
The blankness when you sit there and stare at the wall. And one moment you are laughing, smiling but then...You feel your mind slip away. And all your thoughts disappear. And your feeling go with it. And your friends and family beg you to sleep, to eat, to speak.But you can't because you don't feel the need to.
It's the blankness.
It's the feeling of not even realizing you feel numb. That is until the second you realize you aren't laughing at something that you used to cry tears of happiness over.
It's the dread of wanting to do something that you once spent every waking hour wishing to do.
It's the blankness.
It's the feeling of every little touch. Every little word. It's amplified into screaming.
You want to slap every helping hand away. And when you do you feel guilty.
It's the blankness.
It's not the depression, or anger, or suicidal thoughts.
It's the blankness, the emptiness, the confusion of fog.
The blankness that controls us all.
The boy continued,"I don't really know how to explain it. It's almost as if my heart is hollow,"
