Seven

Chapter 59

LILIANNA'S POV

Four months later . . .

The second month without him was awful. I kept my mind busy that first month while I was in the hospital, it was a lot easier to not think about Seven and focus on healing and getting better. But when I was released from hospital it began.

It was slow at first, invisibly creeping it's way over me. I thought my body was just exhausted from the stress of my accident. I was tired all the time and spent most of my waking hours wishing I could be asleep. No one tells you that depression is so obvious to spot in people until you're going through it yourself. For me I was tired - in the beginning anyway. There were a lot of low thoughts I was experiencing but I had connected them as being apart of going through the motions of what it might be like in a break up. But I was just so tired that even when I woke up I still felt exhausted. That tiredness progressed into quietness. I began to speak less, till eventually I was hardly talking. I spent days in bed mostly sleeping, watching television, forcing myself to study, staring at the ceiling. Sometimes I just spent hours doing absolutely nothing. Just laying in an empty bed with an empty mind, which I suppose I liked because not thinking about anything was a whole lot better then thinking about my life.

Soon I began to lose interest in things. I didn't find my favourite television shows worth watching anymore, I didn't find jokes funny and I hated the way music made me think about things I didn't want to think about. Nearly every song would remind me of him somehow so I ultimately stopped listening to any music. At times I'd struggle to concentrate on my studies, my tutor would have to repeat himself multiple times to draw back my attention. I could hardly focus on school, even with my tutors help I was barely scraping through on my marks.

It hadn't occurred to me that I was depressed. I hadn't known anyone to be diagnosed with it so I had no idea that's what I was struggling with. Before my diagnosis I had simply thought I was reaching an age where life lost its shine. Kind of like when you find out about Santa not being real and then every Christmas that follows just isn't as special as it was when you were a believer. I thought I had witnessed some of the worlds harshest lessons and now my view on life was tainted. That and having some form of chronic sleep disorder - because boy was I tired. All. The damn. Time. I lived in my sweatpants and hoodies, I never bothered to wear make up. My eyes were always puffy from the hysterical crying out of nowhere. I looked a mess - I was a mess. Hell, I was barely showering at times. The weirdest thing was that I wished I had something of Seven's, like a t-shirt or jumper I could wear as some kind of comfort. Even though I was hurt by him completely deserting me and even though I was so furious at him for hurting me, a small part of me still found some kind of comfort by the thought of it.

I was given medication by a doctor and told to work on a routine to get myself out of bed and combat day to day life. It helped for a bit but my friends helped the most. Tiffany and Mesha took turns coming to entertain me. Tiffany came practically every morning since I was living at the back of her parents house. Mesha gave me a lot of gossip and comic relief. She joked I was going through an "emo" phase and told me of a time she too was depressed and thought dying her hair a different colour every week was going to fix her. She also joked about dying my hair to make me feel better - which I took literally. I did dye my hair with a wash out pink tone but I liked it and it did make me feel kind of better for the week it was in. It helped me forget about the awful feeling in my chest that began the moment he left me.