Short Stories

No One Will Remember my Name

It's come to my attention some people think depression is an already illness to deal with. Here's a sneak peek of what it's like in my mind.

"What do you want to do when you grow up, hun?" My grandmother smiled and budged my form where I sat in the office chair. Both my guardian and my shrink stared at me, with painted smiles.

I wasn't sure how to answer. I love writing and reading, I've always wanted to be an author, I can make it.

There are 7 billion people on this planet. How many other people want to be the same thing?

Ah. So that's off the list. There are plenty of people who want to be authors, I'm not special. My mouth closed, and I shrugged. How do I answer the question with seeming edgy? If I'm edgy then they'll think I'm just another emo teen..

"Aw, come on, it's not hard-"
The shrink was still smiling at me. I didn't wanna look at her, she was probably getting annoyed cause I'm not answering soon enough..

But I can't choose so quickly. I cant. "I just don't want to be forgotten."

I know I will be forgotten. Someone will look at an old picture of me in the future, and say they don't know me. They don't care about my life. I don't want that.

"What do you mean dear?" her voice became concerned, weary.

"If I can not live long enough to see myself become a hero, I will die a villain."