1 Reason

Chapter One

Another boring day at college loomed ahead as I grudgingly got up from the warmth of my bed to get dressed. Another day filled with the same boring people and the same endless chatter of classmates that talked about the same thing they had been talking about all week; the upcoming party.

I wasn't the party type of girl. While everyone else preferred to get drunk and engage in one night stands with someone they barely knew, I preferred to stay at home where I had an endless supply of books and free WiFi. I liked it that way. I didn't bother anybody and they didn't bother me.

Of course, this led to being lonely but I did have friends I spoke to online. We'd yet meet in person since we didn't live in the same area but it was better than having nobody at all. I knew I could trust them with absolutely anything and they could trust me the same, but even then, I still held back sometimes. 

Only one person knew about my gradual spiral into depression, thoughts filled with self hatred and how much better it would be if I just disappeared on a more permanent basis. I was able to confide in Kate because she suffered too, so I knew she would understand. Apart from her, nobody else knew because more often than not, people start treating you differently when they know you have depression. Their attitude changes and they start treating you as though you're a fragile little doll, watching what they say in case they push you into an even worse state of mind.

Instead of getting to know someone, they choose to judge. In their minds it's easier, even though it's the worst thing you could do because it just makes a person feel worse. I'd heard a few people call suicidal ones selfish because "they're only thinking of themselves" and that "we're just inflicting the pain on ourselves because we choose to be miserable" when we shouldn't. It's the most disgusting thing you could say and it's why I'd become somewhat of an antisocial person. I kept a close circle of friends at college but that was it, and even they didn't know about my depression ─ the way they've spoken about it had me clamming right up. 

Not that they've ever realised the effect their words had on me though, or they'd stop immediately. I knew that because they weren't bad people, they just had a warped opinion on those who suffer. When people didn't understand, they judge.

I didn't really mind not being able to open up to them. Sometimes it hurt but when I'd gotten so used to keeping everything bottled up inside, not even sharing it with family, it had become the better option. I was used to being alone, after all.

It was also why I'd much prefer to stay at home while my classmates attended yet another party hosted by god knows who to do god knows what. Get drunk and get laid. That seemed to be the theme of them.  

What was the appeal in getting so intoxicated you remember absolutely nothing the next morning? All you get is a bitter regret and the worst hangover in the world, and that's if you're lucky. If that's what they liked to do, though, then who was I to comment?

"Are you up, Amalie?" I heard my mum call from downstairs, cutting through my thoughts. 

"Yeah, I'll be down in a minute!" I called back, checking my appearance in the mirror once more to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything important like a shirt. With how tired I was, the possibility couldn't be shot completely.

"Hurry up or you'll be late for college!" 

I rolled my eyes at that. I'd tried to tell her numerous times that on a Friday morning, I could sleep in as late as I wanted considering I didn't have any morning classes. No matter how many times I tried explaining that, she didn't listen, claiming it was better to be there early than to risk over sleeping. 

Admittedly, she had a point. If I stayed in bed longer, the possibility of me not wanting to leave the warmth of my bed would only increase. Some days it was a miracle I could get up at all when I didn't want to face the day.