Depressed Sayings Novels & Stories

Waverly smiled and replied vaguely, "Stella is the most famous one out there." "For some people, if they have depression, they will express their negative feelings by throwing tantrums, becoming irritated and complaining. Those signs are actually cries for help. Some people who are depressed simply smile and participate in daily activities like others. They make the people around them feel as though they are doing well. However, in fact, they have already given up on helping themselves, which makes them the most dangerous type. You are incredibly dangerous," Boris said with worry. "I won't die easily. I still have a lot of things to do," Waverly said with a smile.

“I think you should get tested. Get some real answers instead of just assuming something. And talk to someone. Like a professional. To help, you know?” “Because you think I'm wrong and I'm just acting crazy?” He laughed mockingly. “No, because you’re miserable. You know depression isn’t just not wanting to live. It’s also not wanting to do shit and spending your whole day in bed. It’s not taking care of yourself. There are different forms…” “I don’t know. It feels like I’m making a mosquito into an elephant.” I chuckled softly. Dad taught us that saying. It’s the Dutch version of making a mountain out of a molehill. “You’re not. You are important. Your mental health is important. And I love

She sat next to me. The wind blew. The oak tree swayed. --- That night, I called Matthew. He answered on the second ring. "Damon." "Matthew." "You sound different." "I am different." "Different how." "I am tired. Not the kind of tired that goes away after a good night's sleep. The kind that sits in your bones." "That is called depression." "I am not depressed." "You are forty three years old. Your company is trying to push you out. Your sons are still figuring out if they want you in their lives. You are dating a nineteen year old. You are depressed."

I reply. “By all the gods of all religions!” Cynthia exclaims. “Are you going to stick with it? You have to get over that stupid. Depression is not going to get you anywhere.” “I'm not depressed,” I blurt out, in my defense. “It's just that I don't have much of an appetite.” “You've been saying the same thing for weeks,” Cynthia says, getting up from her chair and going over to a basket on the foundation. “At least eat this apple. Oh my God!” She adds, throwing the fruit at me so I can catch it.

My dad said and I smiled at him. "Sorry, I just mean that Cole and all my close friends are in college now. I don't like either one of my parents. And I've been so depressed these past two weeks. I've had two panic attacks in those two weeks because I really lost Cole this time. And I thought I could comfort myself by watching my favorite YT creators but even they have changed from the people that they used to be and that honestly made me even more depressed than I was. I tried reading a book, working my sorrows away, going to parties but it's not the same without my favorite people here. It all just reminded me that I am extremely miserable. And you're my best friend dad, and that is great,

"I'm so lazy to be your punching bag, but the truth is that every time you hit me, it doesn't hurt me at all." "What do you want!!" I snapped, already very annoyed. "Hearing your honesty answered my question." "I already answered that I'm depressed, your hearing isn't good or what?" I looked at him sarcastically, I folded my arms across my chest. "Okay, I accept your answer if you are really depressed. But can you answer my question, what makes you depressed?"

The room, once a stage for a clash of emotions, now became a chamber of broken dreams and shattered illusions, my steps echoing the fragmented pieces of my heart. "Do I really mean nothing to you?" The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken pain. I could feel the words catch in my throat, a bitter truth that I was reluctant to confront head-on. "Anyways, I should have known that all I am good for is nothing. Nothing at all." The words tumbled out, tinged with a self-deprecating resignation that cast a dark shadow over my fragile heart.

she asks in a low, haunting voice that fucking guts me. Disappointment is a heavy burden, a sinking feeling that lodges itself deep within the heart. It's the bitter taste of hope turned sour, a shattered dream that leaves a trail of tears in its wake. It strikes like a sudden storm on a sunny day, catching you off guard and leaving you drenched in sorrow.

I slow down when I enter a small dustbowl town and creep through at twenty-five miles an hour as the speed sign dictates. I'm sleepy, and a few hours ago, a sense of melancholy descended. It happens from time to time. It's another reason I fight. When you're someone like me, there's nowhere to go for depression. Hell, I don't need some fucking head shrink to call a spade a spade. My wiring is fucked up and fighting cures all my evils.

"You look down." Hilary, her heart heavy with a sense of sorrow, slumped onto the couch, her body slumping under the weight of her emotions. "It's just... everything," she said, her voice a low murmur, her words laced with a sense of frustration. "My family, my life, everything is so messed up."