After being afflicted with depression at an early age, 17-year-old Mae finds a way to cope through diary exchanges with her best friend. Using an old leather-bound journal to jot down every instance of pressure, joy, and bitter strife, even this solace seems to be no match for constant break downs. Mae thinks no one notices when she stifles tears in the back of art class. But someone does. Maybe it's high time Mae realizes that even though crying sucks when someone else sees it, that's all the more reason they deserve to know why.

"One Sunday afternoon he tried a new super power, the ability of flight. He tried it because he want to get out of this world, he wanted to escape, even just for a while. Or maybe forever." © esthetques 2015

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There really wasn't any stopping it. It wasn't my fault that my skin was as dark as the night, or my nose was broader than any other's, my hair was always rough looking and broke easily. There was nothing I could do, because to them I will and always will be, the black girl. HR: #3 Short Story Graphic by caesium-

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