Explore #depressed

     You sighed for the… you couldn’t even think of a number high enough. Sniffling, you rolled over on your bed for the whoknowshowmany time, clutching a pillow to your chest. Your tired, red, (e/c) eyes stared bleakly at the wall in front of them, having run out of tears long before. Your thoughts wandered back to the reason why you were in this horrible seemingly never ending mess.
     It all started with your lovesick depression. Yes, you were lovesick. You never had someone to cuddle with, someone to talk with, and someone to hold hands with, nope. The only person that you wanted to do those things with didn’t think of you that way.
     And his name is Arthur Kirkland.
     You and Arthur have been best friends since freshman year, and now you were both juniors. Or soon to be, anyways; it was summer at the moment.
     Back to the reason why you are lying in bed

     Two weeks.
     Two weeks since you had stopped texting him every day.
     Two weeks since your skin had started to grow paler.
     Two weeks since you started to wear baggier clothes than usual.
     Two weeks since your voice softened and you didn’t speak as much.
     Two weeks since a certain Dane had been worried sick about you. And the list could go on.
     Matthias honestly didn’t know what to do. What had caused you to change? Did something happen? He didn’t know. And it was killing him.
     Ever since two weeks ago, your behavior had changed. Instead of being the loud, laughable, fun person that you always were, you had started talking less, and always seemed to think before you said anything, which was far from being the I-always-say-what-comes-to-mind-first-with-no-regrets _____.
 

  You glance at the clock. 12:30 AM. Way past your bedtime. Looking back up at the ceiling, you sigh, another tear rolling down your cheek. Nothing had gone right today. You had a writer’s block, and when you did start writing, it wasn’t good enough. Then when you were sorting your photography, you found that you didn’t really have a ‘thing’ that you took photography of. Like, some people only took pictures of trees, or flowers, but you did everything. Like you were a wanna-be photographer. And you hated it. Nothing was special about the way you wrote or photographed.  
  Then, you had spent part of the day with your best friend. Stupidly, though, she was too busy skyping her friends and having fun with them to notice your depressed state. After she left, you messaged one of your other best friends on facebook. They only told you that a family member of theirs died, and then said they had to go. So here you were, listening to the radio, and lying on your b