The Boy Who Couldn't

You're Never Too Early.

This story begins years, and years ago. It follows the very start of one boys life. He lives a standard life, with a standard family and nothing particularly outlandish about his appearance nor demeanor.This story picks up around a few months after his seventh or eighth birthday, where in he finds himself losing most interest in his hobbies, family or any other activity. He lived with just his mother and younger brother, seeing his father on alternating weekends, so finding ways of enjoyment was not a difficult task. However, no matter the action, whether it be video games, time with his mother or brother, or any other, there lie a deep, leeching feeling within him.

Make no mistake though, this feeling was small. And it didn't particularly effect his actions or ability to enjoy things. In fact that feeling, the leech, within him had little to no actions towards him and his lifestyle. He lived freely, eating, playing, loving and being whomever he decided to be. He was free, and had nothing that held him down. This however, was just the beginning. As leeches do, this feeling began to suck on the boy, further and harder with each passing day, week, month, year. He could only watch and fear as to why he would instinctively, and almost mechanically, push away people he liked, grow a distaste for most his favorite foods, lose motivation to try harder and work to his best, feel more hopeless in his hobbies, and begin to ever so slightly,

ever so gently, 

ever so quietly, 

crack. 

The boy was starting to come to an age in which, this feeling would grow alongside him, festering within him, as he would attempt to figure out his future and his life. He passed the time in a mindless and numb state where he just felt almost one feeling constantly:

Tired. 

Before he had known it, the time had come. It was his eleventh birthday. By this point, he had grown to feel more numbed towards his birthday. As though it meant nothing towards him and what he was to achieve, even though he wanted ever so badly to enjoy it and celebrate how he had grown and look back at the time he spent through out the years, recounting his experiences and tales. Though, despite his deep seated numbness, he put on a show. He smiled and grinned, showing his teeth and doing his best to be happy despite how he felt. He saw the looks of joy on his family's faces. His mothers eyes struck out to him, the way she looked at him with such a pure sense of joy and pride broke his heart, and made him want to cry. Yet, even at an age this young, he shouldered on and did his best to make his family happy.

This was the beginning of this boys future. Thrusting aside his own feelings, thoughts and future, as to do his very best to make anyone he deemed a kind, genuine person happy. He had begun to hide his own feelings of sadness, and his yearning for comfort and love, his thoughts of getting help and doing better, his ideas for his future and what he dreamed and prayed to become and achieve, all for the sake of giving his absolute best, every single ounce of his being and soul, to making everyone he could feel okay. 

He knew how he felt, and realized that day what he felt wasn't natural or okay. It was no longer something to overlook, yet he made the decision to hide it under an attempt to help others, as there was a feeling that struck hold of his heart every time he opened his mouth to cry out in pain and beg for help and to be reassured he's doing okay:

F E A R 

 It wasn't rational, and he couldn't find any root, rhyme or reason as to WHY this feeling took hold of him, but he knew it was something he couldn't overcome. Not yet. He began to question his very mind, as to whether this feeling was something that COULD or COULDN'T be overcome? If the fact of him even questioning it and feeling so exhausted by the sheer thought of working to defeat it, made him weak and useless? Could he even overcome it? Was this something he could do? Is this worth even tryingfor?WhoamItodecideifthisisworthadamnWhatsthepointingivingitallIhaveifitwontamounttoanythingAmIevenworthfightingforWhydoIevenfeellikethisthere'snoreasontonothingbadhaseverhappenedtomethatwasthisbadrightI'llbefineI'llbefineI'llbefine-

Shut up. 

The boy whispered into the dark, empty void of his mind. 

In that moment, he felt nothing but one feeling,

he had no dreams for the future but only one, 

he had only one wish for his birthday. 

To make it stop. 

At any cost.

 His doubts, fears, all of his negative emotions were being amplified, and almost given an extra push to overthrow his rational thought, leading him to become a wreck. He just wanted it all to stop, he wanted to feel the way he did yesterday. Or the day before that. Or, hell, even when he was born. He just wanted to feel ANYTHING but the way he did in that very moment. He wanted to feel either okay, or nothing. Those emotions that bottled and burst inside his mind, not only managed to wrap their shadowy hand around his young, fragile heart, but also slipped and slid their way inside his brain, influencing his thoughts.

Suddenly, he snapped back. He was back at his Grandma's house, surrounded by his family, his family all smiling and laughing around him. The room was filled with joy, and happiness. Yet the boys heart sank, he only felt as though he didn't belong and he shouldn't be there. As he went to grip his hands together, he realized there was a present within his grasp. He checked the label, seeing it came from his Mother, who had been patiently waiting beside the boys side for him to unwrap the gift. He looked up at her once more, only to meet that same sparkle of pride in her eyes, a complete contrast to the dark, downhearted look within his . He looked away quickly, feeling a welling sense of guilt, despite knowing he had done nothing wrong. He focused his attention back towards the gift in his hands, neatly wrapped and sellotaped carefully around each fold, in ways that only a parent or carer could when they truly love the child they wrap for. It was clear how much care was taken, so the child took his time to carefully unwrap the present,

layer by layer,

layerbylayer, 

He revealed the gift to his family, in a faked sense of admiration and joy: he had received a journal. It's Ben 10 themed covering really lit his eyes up at first, which had been promptly filled with a sense of guilt that caused him to struggle to stay composed. The family has all congratulated him on his birthday gift, and spent their time separated, doing their own acts.

The boy could only sit in his chair at his Nan's table, staring at the opening page of his new journal. He looked towards his colouring pencils, and suddenly, with no warning, a sudden urge and idea over took his thoughts. He gripped the yellow pencil, flicked through the journal, finding a random spot somewhere around midway, where we looked over his shoulders, checking for people who might see what he was about to write. He double checked, triple checked, and even checked once more for safety. He finally let out a gentle sigh, and focused his attention on the paper, furrowing his bushy, brown eyebrows, as he finally write the words he couldn't bring himself to think or speak:

I want 

to die.

He had picked yellow in an attempted to make it hard to read, and to hide it easier, along with the aimless placement of the phrase, would make it near on impossible to find in his eyes. This was his first ever experience recognizing his truest, deepest and clearest desire. 

He yearned to kill himself. Or die by any means. 

He just wished to escape the way he felt. 

This boy, had begun his journey onto what he quickly began to realize as:

Depression