Depression Short Stories

School days.

He remembered his younger self, aged only 11, a smiling boy who had the world at his fingertips. He had no worries then, his only setback was how outgoing he was, which wasn't even a hamartia in itself. He remembered his worried mother in the driver seat as she lectured him and gave him her version of critical advice to make friends, which at the time he didn't think he needed. A bright smile had made his small, angelic face glow, and people had, at first naturally been drawn to him.

The corridors which had been so foreign to him back then he could walk blindfolded now, not that he wanted to. He remembers on the day, his form class unknowing of where to go to find their classes, ultimately driving him to become the leader and ask an older classman what room they had to migrate to. He would grow to fear the upperclassmen.

In his first lesson (English he thinks) they did an exercise on getting to know each other. The tables were pushed around the sides and a circle of chairs had been formed in the middle of the room. He had then happily agreed to go first, stating his name and his hobbies and one quirky thing about him- which took him a while to think of to be quite honest. He remembered how he pushed aside his anxiety- masking it in optimism and shackling it in the back of his mind. Right now he regrets that. That anxiety had grown into a beast tearing at its manacles- angry and vicious.

The other kids in his class had been less open about themselves, shielded in shyness, and he guessed now he should have done the same. The lessons throughout the day were filled with activities for the teachers he would have over the next 5 years to get to know him and his class- not that he learned much about his fellow classmates.

That lunch he remembers wandering helplessly around the playground. his class had herded off together into small groups, leaving him to roam between them. It was now he realised- at this moment- that his anxiety had slowly been fed by his questioning thoughts. He should have realised then that he was being ostracised by the people he tried so hard to become close to.

Throughout the day his angelic smile and bright coffee-coloured eyes had faded- a small frown and dull brown eyes replacing it- his anxiety pulling at its chains and laughing maniacally through his head. By the end, he was fed up- slamming the door of his moms abused Honda in a huff. He remembers the worried look on his mother's face- that would soon turn into annoyance, frustration at the fact that he couldn't fit in.

He tried. He really did try to fit in- to make friends- to be bold and brave and continue locking the monster in his head out of his thoughts. He would try for years, that is until today. Today he was tired. He was so tired of trying. Unlike his smiling 11-year-old self, at age 15 he had developed frown lines, and a permanently lost look had sheened over his eyes. He would cower from a look and would wither with stares. He was so tired.

And tonight he would sleep forever.