Most Depressing Book Of All Time 소설 & 이야기

Her eyes were red-rimmed. She placed the book on the table. Her hands were shaking. "I read it in one night," the girl whispered. "The part about the closet... about hiding because you thought you were too much..." She looked at Aria, tears spilling over. "I thought I was the only one." Aria reached across the table. She took the girl's hand. "You are never the only one," Aria said. "That's the lie depression tells you. It says you're singular in your pain. But you're part of a choir."

The study was dark, so I opened the blinds and took in the room. It was very... August. Brown. Black. More black. Not a single color brave enough to survive in here. There was a minibar. I wasn't surprised to find it stocked mostly with expensive whiskey. The bookshelf took up almost an entire wall. Business books. Finance books. Leadership books. Books about making money. Books about keeping money. Books about probably becoming even more unbearable than he already was. Not one novel. Not even a guilty pleasure romance. What a sad life.

Susan snorted, her eyes still on her phone. "Fine, just don’t think, I’ll give you my book to catch up on. See you later," she said, her tone dismissive. As she walked out of the room, I felt a wave of hopelessness wash over me. I looked down at the dish I was holding, the water running over my hands. I felt like I was drowning, like the world was closing in around me. I sank to the floor, tears streaming down my face. I was lost, and I didn't know what to do. I felt small and insignificant, like I didn't matter to anyone.

“This can’t happen again.” Boaz’s black alpha wolf bucked me in my ass, sailing me forward, and I crashed head down into the grassy floor as I relived the horrid nightmare. Overwhelmed by the vivid recollections, I was stuck in the traumatic reminiscence. Blinded by despair. Gulping down hopelessness. Bleeding from the splintering loss in my heart. Sinking into depression. Drowning in self-deprecation. I couldn’t see or feel my enemies tearing at my flesh and leaving large gaping holes in my sides.

, Rachel taunts. They say nothing more after that, leaving me to wallow in my own sorrow. And I do. I feel devastated. I feel used and dumped. I feel worthless. All the emotions in a book that could possibly describe someone‘a despair, I feel them all. I’m overwhelmed with grief.

I scoffed, I realized I actually had no choice but to read instead of just staying here and drowning in my thoughts and depression. The silence was too loud, and my mind was too full of what-ifs, regarding the baby’s future, Selene's strained face during her daily visits, and the growing chaos I could sense even from down here. So I reached for one of the books on top of the pile Selene had brought for me yesterday, a thick volume with a faded leather cover about lost realms and forgotten magic.

Already much more soothing than sad songs and the sound of explosions. Tall shelves lined the walls, crammed with books. Of course this man had a library that looked like it belonged in an interior magazine spread. A low chandelier hung in the middle of the room above a long solid wood table, a few chairs, one couch in the corner with a folded throw. I walked along the first shelf, letting my fingertips brush the spines. Gold lettering, embossed titles, lettering already faded. The first row was full of classics. Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Dumas. Of course Zane owned a collection of depressed men who liked to write about sin and consequences. Fitting.

“But both are Nintendo, so the vibe here is still good” “How about books? Do you have a favorite?”, she asks. “Grapes of Wrath”, I answer and her shock over my answer doesn’t go unnoticed. “You”? “The Great Gatsby”, she says. Wow, that’s depressing! “So tragic”, I told her. “Speak for yourself”, she says, and we both laugh again because both books are probably equally depressing! “Favorite movie?” I asked her. “Love, Actually”, she says sadly. “Serious? Isn’t that a little before your time?” I said.

I am so grateful to the one who invented music because I would literally die of boredom without it, even though I only listen to one band which is the Mayday Parade -- an American rock band from Florida that I had discovered because of my deceased brother - Zon. My inside cells were already dancing to the beat of the song Miserable at Best as I watched the bus slowly move across the roads. It'd definitely take a while before I reached the school. The conductor kept on calling passengers without realizing the bus was already full. He couldn't even smell his own breath while trying to cross between people standing in the middle of the bus.

Chapter 5 – Mother’s Darkness Mother sat in her favorite armchair, the soft afternoon light filtering through the lace curtains. The house was quiet, too quiet, each corner echoing memories of laughter, arguments, and whispered secrets. Yet now, the silence was heavy, pressing down on her chest. Her once vibrant energy, the pillar that had held the family together through loss and hardship, was eroding under the weight of depression.