❝In which a celebrity dials a random number in hope of finding one last thing to make him smile before he commits suicide at the end of the month.❞ "I'm going to commit suicide in one months time." "I think you have the wrong number." "It can't be the wrong number Princess. I picked a random number from the catalog." ...
"Give me ten days, and I can give you ten reasons not to die." Evan paused. "And if I can't change your mind by then, you can go jump off that cliff."
"I think you should -" "Correction: I am in my own body, with my own mind; you do not and cannot tell me what to do."
THE AUTHOR OF THIS FIC IS @takenbyphun ON TWITTER // NOT MY FIC A teenager with Asperger's Syndrome who loves poetry meets a person his age and he seems fascinated by what shade of red their hair is.
I'm sorry if this story is bothering you. But if it is, it's clearly not meant for you. "What's depression like?" A friend once asked. I didn't know what to say. Because when people ask you things like "What's wrong" and "How are you?" and "Can I help you?" I never know what to say. I end up lying. I end up answering...
