Anyone who has actually been that sad can tell you that there's nothing beautiful or literary or mysterious about depression.

One spark can change everything.

People are funny. The longer you are around them, the more you start to realize that everyone makes the same motions over and over again.

And who cares about the stupid color. Fashion is the least of my concerns right now.

I used to feel so devastated thinking about the length of days, about how time seems to stretch on forever, unforgiving and unchanging.

My blackhole of a heart stalls, sucking all the air out of my lungs.

I shrug and shake my head. It’s a combination of moves that make me vaguely look like I’m doing some kind of dance – the dance of I-don’t-know and please-please-please-don’t-force-me-to-answer.

I never understand why teachers think shouting out that someone got a good score on a test will help their social standing.

And their death was a supernova – their death demanded attention.