This Kind of Feeling (Doesn't Happen Around Here) [Ryden]

Chapter 1

  I was back home, in the comfort of the familiar surroundings of my tiny apartment. The couch, the carpet, the bottle. I had another attack today, no one noticed at least, well except for Jon who told me to 'Shut the fuck up because he's on a really important call.' Well it's not like I'm bitter, though, I'm glad no one noticed. I don't know what I would have done if someone noticed, well I do, but I should try and push those thoughts out of my head. I have to be my own therapist because I'm too scared to see a real therapist because maybe if I do I'll feel like I'm aware of how cruddy of a situation I'm in. But I tell myself all the things that therapist me told me to practice 'Try to control yourself, Ryan.' 'Don't think about suicide, Ryan.' 'Make friends, Ryan.' God, the things I have to tell myself to keep on going. I almost audibly scoff. I realise that music is playing, when did I turn that on? Anyway the singer seems to be talking about depression 'Singing songs that make you slit your wrists, it isn't that much fun, staring down the loaded gun.' doesn't really matter what it's saying though it's all white noise to me now, I don't cherish these songs anymore,well, at least not like I used to, now it's only there to try and help comfort me,well it's not working. Maybe I shouldn't listen to this kind of music when I feel like this, but when songs that are filled with happiness and love play I just feel out of place like they're lying to themselves or mocking me and my feelings. But I prefer the first option, I don't believe true happiness is achievable, if you think it is, your lying to yourself.

Today was the big day as Bob had reminded me so.Today was they day I'm supposed to present a new idea to the hierarchy to improve sales or whatever I don't know what it's about even though I wrote it and I rehearse it 24/7. But the real question is 'Am I ready to perform?' Does it really matter? No it can't. I'm not even nervous.

Time passes quickly when you don't care before I know it it's time to perform. I try to put on a cocky grin, I look in the mirror, it looks like a pained grimace, well whatever it'll do.I go on shakily but I eventually get more confident as I go on. By the start of the speech I imagine I probably look pretty professional. I start the speech off and it's going pretty well until a wave of shock thunders through my bones, like a ghost searching through the depths of my soul causing as much pain, emotional and physical, as possible.

I am on the ground shaking. My eyes closing and reopening and closing again.People gawking around as if they've never seen this before.This is worse than all the others the one to top it off. Open. Close. Open. A wall. I see a wall. Such a strange yellow color.