2 Stories

First one - The Problem

But the problem lay not so much in the problem itself but in the problems that he felt about his depression. It wasn’t just that he was depressed, it was that he was therefore depressing, towards himself and all those around him. Sucking the life out of every happy moment, projecting an arcing aurora of negative energy in a kind of reverse Peng Shuai as he sulked and skulked about in the corners of rooms

His friends tried to include him as best they could, but this only made him feel more depressed, because they were the ones making the effort to drag this morbid, succourless husk out of his own little world, when it was him who should be making the effort. Why should they have to put up with him, me, he thought, and though they would eventually give up the ghost, leaving him content that they no longer felt him burdening them, he would arrive home to contemplate with disdain the way in which he felt left out, out of touch, disconnected, misunderstood.

Humour used to be a good defensive mechanism, but as soon as he had become aware it of being a defense mechanism he no longer felt comfortable using it. Better to face up to the facts than employ a deflective irony. But with nothing with which to deflect, and a now acute awareness that an honesty about troubles would only be a burden upon the clearly happy and content people around him, he could only remain gravely silent, a furrowed brow christening his chastened pout.

And so he would remain, until.

Second one - Murder she wrote on a recycled hotel bible.

She was another self-destructive messy little girl.

Her heart got stuck on someone else’s bad luck.

He was a lying lawyer with a sleeve full of mystery.

He shared his love with a fist full of green pills.

The more she swallowed, the more she wallowed.

She was strong, yet naive, and he made her believe.

Everything kept going so wrong and it wasn't the way she planned.

One more perc, one more line, one more sip.

That was it, she was an addict.

He used her body and drained it dry.

He bruised her arms but she just wanted to fly.

Or die. Whichever would come faster.

Then he left her alone in this new world.

She found every drug she wanted through networking,

because being sober wasn't working.

Her fragile little body was the center of attention,

but she failed to mention the help that she needed.

Everyone was pleading but she wasn't ready to stop.

Her mouth whispered denial but her green eyes were screaming out.

She was consumed in fear and doubt.

She wanted to be left alone but cried when everyone was gone.

A line straight to the brain so she could forget the pain.

An addicts an addict, it’s always the same.

Marissa Way

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