U ever wish u were Mysterious but u can’t stop talking about urself
The problem with a history of depression and anxiety is that you can never know if you’re “just having one of those weeks” or if you’re sliding back down into those places you swore you’d never go again.
If you know someone who’s depressed, please resolve never to ask them why. Depression isn’t a straightforward response to a bad situation; depression just is, like the weather.
Try to understand the blackness, lethargy, hopelessness, and loneliness they’re going through. Be there for them when they come through the other side. It’s hard to be a friend to someone who’s depressed, but it is one of the kindest, noblest, and best things you will ever do.❞
"why do you always do that?" he whispered,
sad blue eyes in the darkness, arms almost
around me. “why whenever someone compliments you
do you always pretend like you don’t deserve it?”
i shrugged and burrowed closer to him.
i felt his heart quicken.
"i’m worried about you," he whispered, "i think you’re
in a really bad place.”
i kissed him before he figured out the rest of me.
i think he fell in love. he put his heart in my hand and i remember staring at it for a long time.
i also remember when it dropped.
my hands cant hold things, you know.
they shake a lot.
but neither you, nor anybody else ever will.