How Do Depression Quotes Help Mental Health?

When my wife's childhood friend's depression flared up again, she handed me divorce papers. I signed them without a fuss and told her I was leaving the country. She looked surprised, then seemed to figure it out. "So you're finally behaving? Realized your little tantrums won't work, so now you're trying something new to get me back? Fine. Go abroad. Stay out of Asher's sight so you don't trigger him. When he gets better, I'll come get you." I slipped off my wedding ring and handed it to her. My gaze fell to the jagged scar on my wrist. "No need," I said. "Let's just let each other go. Stop holding on."

In the madness of life, we find the madness of life in ourselves. We are a reflection of the madness of life. We are the embodiment of a crazy life.

Despite of being cold and cranky, Levi cares a lot. The unexplainable ability of him to lucid dream helped him to discover how and why people committed suicide. However, he didn’t expect that he would be using his gift to know the reasons behind why his friends and loved ones took away their own lives. The aftermath of it is slowly killing him—he must be saved.

Being a mute used to be simple before all the craziness started. I just can't talk and that's who I am. Mum has learned to accept that and I guess so have I. Everything was just fine in my high school in Shanghai. I had finally made it to year twelve and even though I was in China, I was actually being treated as a human being despite my disability. Things were definitely not perfect but I would give anything to go back to that, like it was before. I heard my first voice that year, right at the beginning of year 12. I didn’t really have any real friends, but I was used to it and before the voices started, I was fine with that. But it all changed when I first heard them. The voices inside their heads started then and my life was never the same. They weren't just thinking about school or they girls or guys they were into, no they were thinking about doing things, doing horrible things to each other and I was the only one that knew how messed up they really were.

Mom always says that depression is nothing more than an illness born of idleness. People who are truly busy studying don't have time to be depressed. So, during my senior year of high school, I lie awake through countless nights, my hair falling out in clumps as I tremble over endless mock papers. Mom only slides another mock exam booklet in front of me. "Finish this booklet, and you won't have time to wallow in self-pity." At family gatherings, my relatives notice that I keep my head down and barely speak. They ask Mom, "Why has she gotten so quiet?" Mom's face darkens at once. "It's because she's guilty about something, duh. Go on. Tell everyone what you've done wrong this time." Later, even my homeroom teacher calls to say I don't seem like myself anymore. The moment Mom hangs up, she rounds on me. "So, now, you've started tattling to your teacher?" It isn't until I collapse before a mock exam that she finally listens to the doctor's advice and brings home a tiny orange tabby. Through the darkest days of my life, that cat becomes my only reason to keep going. Eventually, I make it into college. When I come home for the Independence Day holiday, I step through the door and call out instinctively for him. "Tangy?" No answering meow. Even the cat bed on the balcony is gone. "Stop calling," Mom said flatly. "I dumped him back where I found him the day you left." I stand there, frozen for several seconds before turning and darting outside, only to realize I have no idea where to go. The sounds around me become muffled, as though separated by a pane of glass, drifting farther and farther away. At that moment, my last connection to the world quietly snaps.

The novel consists of several mini-stories about therapy sessions at a therapy clinic named "Soulmate", but the letters "m-a-t-e" were broken in a storm. Each mini-story is narrated by both the psychologists and the patients, describe the patients' worldview, why they do what seems "mentally ill" to us. We often say that the patients' head is abnormal, that their way of thinking is so weird. But is there any possibility that it's because they received different (whether right or wrong) information, so they react differently? Is that just because we "normal people" haven't got enough understanding about this world? Throughout the story, we could see that therapy sessions are a two-way arrow. While the experts are affecting the patient, the patient is also influencing them,“When you look deeply into the darkness, the deep darkness is also looking into you". The story does not make any conclusion about who is right or which world is real, maybe all of them are real, maybe they are all virtual, or maybe, it all doesn't matter. Isn't the world where we live? Wherever you live, that's your world.