Hiding Depression Quotes Mga Nobela at Kwento

I was an idiot. I'd been so arrogant, so sure that what Matthew and I had was unbreakable. It never occurred to me that the only reason it seemed that way was because he was so good at hiding it. I took a deep breath and typed a reply. "You were right. He's cheating." The comment section exploded again. Some people offered comfort, some cursed him out, but most of them were just there to gloat. "We literally told you, and you didn't believe us. I bet you're the type to ignore him for a week and then go right back to washing his underwear."

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." Late

“Whether she likes it or not, she said in a low, deliberate tone, she is wearing that necklace tonight. My business depends on it.” Neither of them knew it yet,but someone was about to crash into their perfect lives with a lot of drama and shake it to the core.

My Christmas tree was still on the wall. I never asked why. He never said. I just looked at it sometimes and felt held. He didn't say I love you. Not with words. He might never. Most days I didn't need him to. I felt it in everything in the way he moved around me, adjusted for me, stayed close without being asked to. But I was still myself underneath all of it, and depression is a liar who knows your voice. It would whisper, in quiet moments, that he'd change his mind. That I was a temporary thing. That I would mess it up eventually, or he'd simply look at me one day and realize he deserved better.

I just scrolled through my news feed, and just shook my head a few times whenever I saw posts about depression, anxiety, and anything else that was pessimistic, and mentally related. Why is it that most of us prefer to disclose to the public that they are depressed, miserable, and so on? For me, if you're feeling like that, it's better to talk to someone you know is close to you, someone that is trustworthy. But yeah, we have our preferences and opinions on whether or not we should disclose our problems to everyone.

I’d spent two weeks in the AA room crying my heart out. When I had no more tears to shed, I counted all the bottles mounted on the walls. When I was done with that I counted the tiles, and then the raindrops that hit the window. Eating and drinking became a second necessity for me; the lives inside me didn’t even matter. Every time I heard footsteps outside the door, or the phone ring or the door open I thought it was Ash. But when I checked and it wasn’t him. It made me sink deeper into my depression.

Lucy mentioned trying to make me better as I busted out into tears. I didn't even care if I was going to smear my makeup. "I don't know what the hell is wrong with me! I am fucking tired." I sat on the chair that was behind me. "I heard about what happened to your close friend, and I am so sorry." She brought my face closer to her body, trying to pat me, but I didn't want to destroy her dress. If only they knew that I was suffering from depression! I might be a public influence, but I have a lot of things I can go through and no one knows about them.

If only she knew how she mattered, and how much it would have been a loss if the world loses her. "It's not a shame to admit you need help, Cath. It's like having diabetes. It's a disease, not a shameful thing to hide. If the people around you don't know you have diabetes, they would keep on giving you sweets without knowing they're killing you. Same as with depression, if people around you don't know you have it, they would keep on expecting you to be fine, without knowing that you're slowly dying. You have to go out there and speak because only then you could get help."

But I cared less. There was no way I was going to hide my feelings from her any more. It was stupid. I was a man. And it was all obvious that I want her. Despite how hard I had try to fight those feelings and push them away. Somehow I had lost. And now, there was no hiding anymore. "Yeah, I would love to." Her eyes lit up in happiness at this. "Staying indoor causes loneliness,and loneliness is the younger brother of depression." She replied, chuckling to herself. Then she beamed at me. There was no hiding anymore. I returned her smile.

“You’re getting old,” I mumbled to myself, after staring at my own reflection in a window. No decoration or Christmas song seemed to be able to lift my gloomy mood, which seemed to grow stronger the closer I got to my apartment. My empty apartment. The place that had always been my castle of solitude and a much-needed place to hide from the world. Now it was just... Empty. Maybe I should continue going to therapy after all. Only this time as treatment for depression.