#DepressionBuddies | Yoonmin

_5

jimin pov ⤵

sometimes i like to think there's at least one person like me out there. fucked up, broken and still breaking. it puts my mind at ease, a little.

it's times like these that my mind wanders off. i begin to think of what it would be like to... well... die. the overwhelming yet non-existent feeling of relief that would flood over me. i wouldn't know i was dead, would i?

there's nobody to miss me. well, maybe my cat would miss me. is it possible for cats to feel that kind of emotion?

i know what you're thinking. i sound like every other depressed teenager out there. that's true but, i'm not exactly your "normal" teenager.

i dropped out of high school when i was sixteen to work full time. i now work three jobs. i live on my own- with only my cat for companionship.

i try to make friends, i really do. but, somehow, i always mess it up. i was never the best at talking to people. so, after my family split, my sister was taken, and my father died, my speech capabilities deteriorated.

really, my lack of friends isn't so much my fault as my fucked up mind-

my cat climbed onto my lap, putting and rubbing her head against my torso. i must have left the door to my bedroom cracked.

i set down the shiny object and reached out to pet her. she was a fluffy, quite beautiful tabby. i'd always wanted an orange tabby cat. i wasn't even in the market for a cat- didn't need one- but i walked past her at the shelter and fell in love.

she's a special girl, blind in one eye- one of her ears was ripped in half. she'd gotten into a fight as a kitten and never healed correctly from it. still, nothing could make me love her any less.

she seems to know what i'm feeling. it probably isn't true but i like to believe so. she seems to scratch at my door or climb onto my lap when i'm sad or thinking of doing... things. you get what i'm talking about.

no, don't be dirty.

i smiled softly as she perched her front paws on my chest. she rubbed her face against my jaw bone. i chuckled and scratched her back.

"did you miss me today, minjee?" i chuckled. i named her after my sister. she really reminds me of her. ah, my sister. i haven't seen her or talked to her in months. i wonder how she's been holding up, or even if she knows about our dad's death?

part of me hopes she doesn't know. i just like to believe that she's happy with our mother, living the normal life of a ten year old.

i let out a long sigh and leaned into the corner between my wall and bathtub.

minjee is the reason i keep myself alive. well, both minjee's. the cat and the human. sure, i starve, cut, and overwork myself but when i say it helps, it really does. overworking keeps my mind off of things. cutting relaxes me. and starving... well that's due to my own self-hatred of the way i look.

but, i'm a teen, it's only normal for me to hate my own self. right?

⤵

a/n: ᴘᴀʀᴀᴄᴏsᴍ