langst one-shots

Depression

Depression wasn't always a word in Lance's vocabulary.
Sure, he knew many people who were depressed and how it affected them, but he never considered himself one of those people.
He had been a happy child, smiling and laughing at any given time. He didn't have it rough; he had a great loving family and endless friends. Everyone in his family got along splendidly and there were little to no fights—but that was something that changed with age. Screaming matches would fill up the quietness of their house. It wasn't fair. Lance didn't want to have arguments left and right, but that's not something he could decide on his own. Despite that, he was academically bright. Of course it was only straight A's that filled up his report cards, nothing less. Why wouldn't he be happy with what he had? Maybe Lance was just being selfish again. People always told him that he should be more considerate of others and not bitch so much about his grades. Maybe he should listen to them. But, Lance just didn't feel as though it mattered anymore. Friends or not, he just didn't feel up to anything. Trying to get out of bed and socialize was tiring for him. He just wanted to sleep. He'd constantly be stressing about his next math test or how his grades weren't up to his standards.
"You have nothing to worry about," people would say. "You have it all. It's not like you're suffering or anything."
Lance didn't need to suffer to stress, nor did he have to be failing to panic. It's not like he had any reason to be that way. It was always just something that was part of his life: a constant state of stress. Eventually, it started to peak through his layers of happiness. Times got rough, and he coped in ways he shouldn't have. Possibly turning to self harm wasn't the way to go, but it's not like he could turn back. Scars already littered his arms, along with more fresh lines overtop. He'd tried to quit before; he really had. Then again, nothing truly worked out for him, he assumed.
As time progressed, Lance forced more smiles than necessary and tended to shut himself in his room more often than not. His parents got worried.
"What is wrong with my baby boy?" his mom would cry when she thought he was asleep. "Did we do something wrong? Why won't he talk to us?"
"He's a growing boy, honey," his dad would reply, "It's only natural for him to start distancing himself from us."
"Not like this!"
Lance didn't want to hear any of this. He didn't want to hear his parent's doubts and how they thought they failed to raise him. He never cried though. Of all the possible things he could have done, he never once did cry. It's not like it mattered. People wouldn't even notice if he did. It's not like anyone genuinely cared. He didn't want to believe some people did, so he simply didn't.
Though, the times he did rarely cry were bad. Ugly sobs would escape his mouth late at night and Lance would sit there, face in his hands, contemplating how life went wrong.
Was it when he hit middle school?
Was it when he lost one of his closest friends?
Was it when he started doubting himself?
Maybe it was that time he finally realized how much stress he lived in.
Highs and lows in his life fluctuated and varied, all coming at different times. But recently, there's been no highs. Everything was just a constant low; undefined.
"You're never gonna get better if you don't speak to me," his mom would cry. "Please, Lance, you've changed too much. You need to talk to me."
'She isn't wrong' Lance would think, she never was. All he would do, is smile, hug her and say he was fine. He could see her trust in him dwindling as the days passed. A simple "I'm ok," or a "Don't worry about it, I'm just tired!" did nothing to soothe her concerns.
At school, he'd still smile and laugh with others, but he realized something. His own smile felt foreign. At a simple thought, they disappeared and a frown formed on Lance's features.
Could he always lose his smile this quickly?
It didn't feel right. He didn't feel right. Yet again, he found himself wondering how his life had gone wrong. Now at school, everything was irrelevant but keeping his grades up. Those were the only things he cared about. He didn't care that he was distancing himself from his friends; he didn't care that he wasn't socializing as much anymore. All he cared about was his grades. Grades, grades, grades. It was a continuous cycle that haunted him day and night.
Lance would lay there alone, staring blankly at the fluorescent screen.
Maybe I should die.
Shaking his head, he would rid his mind of those thoughts and continue to scroll through his phone again. Pictures of smiling friends and other bright things filtered through.
People are better off without me.
He didn't want to think like this. He didn't want to feel so bad about everything. Lance didn't want to hate his friends for simply being there. Wanting nothing more than to just enjoy the life he was gifted, he shut off his phone, but that did nothing to stop the negative thoughts.
Stop it.
Stop it, please.
S t o p  i t .
Curled up, Lance laid there until morning. Loud rings blasted through his alarm clock.
"Another day," he sighed. He pulled his legs over the side of his bed and rubbed his eyes. Yet again, he sat there and stared at the floor just like every other morning. Lance would sit there, questioning if it was even worth going to school at this point.
In the end, he always got up and left for school. He at least was responsible for that much.
•••
Lance was just one big fuck up. He couldn't do anything right—couldn't even talk his dumb feelings out. Of course he managed to screw up the one thing that was going well. For once in his life, Lance was happy with where he was. Though his friendships were a little rocky, they all still cared about each other. But yet again, he managed to screw that up as well.
•••
Lance was just so fucking tired. Every single type of tired. He couldn't mentally deal with all the bullshit going on in his life, he was physically drained from a simple school day and he didn't want to have to deal with his emotions. Laying face first on his bed, Lance shut his eyes and sat there. He finally thought he knew why he was so stressed for no reason at all. It wasn't really home life or school but rather himself. He had always been told how hard high school was going to be and since it came too easy to him, he unnecessarily stressed himself out about what was to come. Despite the fact that Lance's grades were above average, he stressed. It was a sense of habit by that point. He didn't want to deal with it anymore. He didn't want to deal with all the unnecessary stress and problems that came with life, so he made up his mind. Lance decided that he'd find a better place to be. Tying the rope around his neck, he sighed. Guess his mom was really right. Lance never would get better.
•••
hey everyone, s here. i owe you guys an apology. i'm sorry for not updating as often anymore, i've just been stressed. don't know when i'll be back.

goodbye for now.