Depression was a thing I suffered from, it was with me at all time, never once leaving my side, it was my own personal shadow.
Over these past months my emotion has never once changed, it was always, low and dark, then again, it's how I prefered it.
Happiness was fake. No one was ever Truely happy, there was always something that ruined that fake feeling, or they were just putting on an act, pretending to be.
I personally thought Anger was something that was More Real than an "Upside Feeling" because not only could it control you, but it was powerful.
But that was just my thought, of course everyone else would disagree to this, but I Never will, only because, deep down, everyone knew it was the truth.
When I reached "My house" no body was home.
I was finally alone.
Being around people agrivated me to the point where I wanted to lash out at them, and silence their tongue.
Silence was my bestfriend.
It's all I wanted, well that and my music.
Ever since my parents pasted away I've kept to myself, minding myself while others try and comfort me, but I hated everyone and everything.
I needed no comfort, I was perfectly fine.
Nothing could ever make me "happy" and every single person needed to get that through their thick skull.
I dropped all my things on the floor and walked down the hall into my bedroom, going right over to my bed and collapsing onto the spread out sheets, my mind blank and empty.
FML.
I fumbled my fingers into my butt pocket, retrieving my cigarettes and my Black lighter.