True Colors ❧ H.S. [SLOW UPDATES]

| forty eight |

wow look at her, she's updating in 2020 !!!

if you guys are looking for an explanation as to why I've disappeared for ages, please read my note about it on Heavy Crown it's the latest update!

I don't even know if anyone still reads this book I reaaaaaally just wanna finish it off so here I am (:

WARNING: triggering, explicit content consisting of depression and self-harm. Read at your own risk.

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I keep fallin', I keep fallin', I keep fallin', down the rain

Keeps pourin', keeps pourin', I don't know if I can get up today

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A month later

  Harry was depressed.

  It had taken him a couple of weeks to fall into the deepest, darkest hole he had ever been in. Adriana struggled to help him climb back up and out of it because she was too distracted by her cravings and was busy fighting her own demons. It began when he started to feel as if his life was a dull, depressing movie. Adriana would come into his room to convince him to eat or spend time writing or playing music because those were things that were a part of his regular routine; things he once enjoyed doing. He'd end up refusing and they'd begin arguing. At that moment, Harry often felt like his soul was sucked out of his material body and would settle down in the corner of the room and just watch sometimes.

  Dissociation was what came before depression.

  Day by day he was feeling more and more detached from everything. His surroundings, his actions, his body: his life. He can see himself arguing with Adriana, words like knives cutting into her already wounded body. But he was just watching it happen. He had no control over this nor did he have the desire to want to control his words. He sometimes looked at Adriana and wondered to himself how she managed to take care of Mateo during her darkest hours of depression. He could barely drag himself out of bed to pee, yet there she was taking care of another human being.

  A very small part of him wanted to reach out to her for help. Ask her what little he could do to stop himself from drowning in this darkness. But for some reason a larger part of him didn't want to. He never understood why, but it was because he didn't want to burden her with looking after him. He didn't want to talk about killing Dean because he had worked hard on internalizing all of that gut-wrenching guilt he felt. He knew talking to her was like opening a can of worms, and he wanted to keep that can shut.

  He internalized every feeling and emotion to the point where he felt nothing. Just this numbness that haunted and ate at him for days on end. His soul was withering away like a flower dying in the scorching summer heat. A small part of him was well aware that his life was just wasting away and he needed real help. But that part of him struggled to stay afloat in the sea of darkness he was currently drowning in. That small part of him was terrified for his own future, scared that he'll never get over this. He'll never move on with his life and achieve his dreams.