Depression Hurts- Ficly Hurts More.

He wept and pounded his face into the keyboard. It seemed to mock him with it’s letters; so many vast possibilities. The small, crimson, -12 smirked in the corner of the writing box. It was the first time in his life that he actually felt confined; he was a very out-of-the-box person.

“You aren’t-” His chest heaved with a great sob. “You aren’t going to do this to me again. I’m the bigger person now.” The -12 and his face were now the same shade of that violent looking red.

He disregarded the tears and painstakingly murdered the character’s last words… then retyped them and broke down into another fit of sobs. “I…I can’t doo thiss!” The rage shook within his core as he remembered the dreadfull feeling of defeat. He couldn’t let the others see him so weak. “I still have to try… for Mom…”

He growled, and punched the backspace button with a second wind.

Spirit reborn, he retyped his wanna-be love life from the eyes of his literary puppets, finally reaching nirvana with the 1027 character limit.

View this story's 8 comments.