Depressed Writer Novels & Stories

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.

It was visible that he has fallen into depression. Everyone was worried about Arianna ever since she disappeared without a sign and no contact with anyone of Gavin's family. Mr Hugh was worried as he can't believe that his lovely daughter-in-law is missing. Arianna's disappearance aside, everyone was worried about Gavin's mood. He's so depressed that he disassociated himself from his family, friends and everyone close to him. Gavin stopped going to work, he never visited the office, he stays home all day and mostly in his bedroom, reminiscing over the memories he made with Arianna, watching their videos and pictures and drinking, and hurting the more.

✧༝┉˚❋Lucian Montague❋˚┉༝✧ Depression is an easy factor when you’re doing something you shouldn’t be doing. I haven’t heard from my step father, nor my mother in the four dahys since i fucked lucian. The second time. Life has decided to cut me some slack, my self healing is working just fine now and in a month, i believe my injuries would have healed better than the doctors expected.

I start with a broad smile immediately the camera starts rolling "So you all might not know me and I am sure you don't want me on your FYP but I have a lot to say and I think you all should listen" " So today I fired my psychologist. Why did I have a psychologist to begin with?. Well you see, I am depressed. I am depressed before my husband of 10 years betrayed me for a younger, slimmer, prettier woman. I am not ashamed to say that I wasn't good enough. Fat women are never good enough for anyone" I inform as my eyes start watering but I hold it all in

From the park, he could see the whole façade of the city hall and it would be fantastic if he got this marvelous photo to go with his informative article. He pressed the button when he was satisfied with his setting. Then, he liked to sit down for a while and so, he looked for a nice spot and found a place on the ladder of the pillar. He readily sat down on it, visualizing the article he was going to write. He knew that it was quite enjoyable to be a freelance writer but he felt a little bit worried that what if he was running out of ideas one day.

You were still busy helping Matthew and his daughter find housing, jobs, and a good school district. Lauren's face went rigid with shame as her fingers contorted restlessly. "After your youngest died, Mr. Dawson developed severe depression. He needed medication just to function. Did you know that?" The words hit like a blade. She jerked her head up, her expression breaking. "What… Depression?"

Sienna’s POV They say writing is catharsis, a way to release pain through words. But how can I write when I don’t even know if this pain has left me or if it’s holding me tighter than ever? The deadline is just a week away. My editor must be getting restless. But I can’t promise anything. I can’t even manage a single sentence. No inspiration. No characters. No plot—except the turmoil inside me that refuses to settle. I closed my laptop slowly. Not out of surrender, but out of exhaustion. Maybe I just needed fresh air. Something that didn’t remind me of home, of that tidy but suffocating workspace, of the silent dining table, of Noah sitting still with a spoon that never touched his lips.

A deep hole sucking in my energy, my will to keep on living as the days pass. Sighing, I throw my legs on the floor and sit up, rubbing my eyes with the back of my palm. I peer around my dark, haunty apartment, my eyes eventually resting on my laptop on the center table. Ever since I got it back I haven't been able to write. I can't think strange, and my inspiration bank is so dry, it hurts to even worry about it.

From that moment on, Damon always looked dejected and never mentioned anything to her. She continued living in the Godfrey household, living a dull life every day. However, Damon’s condition seemed to worsen. He had lost a lot of weight. His tall and lean figure used to be firm and muscular, but now he looked stick thin. Damon rarely ate these days. He had very little appetite. At the office, he would bury himself in work to conceal his depression, as if keeping himself busy could fill the void in his heart. In just half a month, he had lost a lot of weight. He looked extremely haggard.