Depression got better of me.
I started acting weird and random and pretended to be "obsessed"
with unicorns and other whatnot.
I stopped talking to Lettuce because I knew he didn't care about me.
I still like the boy, although he had moved on.

There was also this guy who sat next to me
in English and Social Studies.
he sat next to me for about the whole year.
I didn't talk to him much in the beginning,
but we started talking more during class.
he would steal my books and erasers and tease me.

I eventually started liking the guy, even though I still liked the boy.
The guy and I eventually started to message each other,
although we didn't talk often.

he found that I liked him one day, somehow.
and I knew who he liked- it was the Ms. Perfect of the grade above me.
I pretended not to be hurt.

I told the guy about my depression and the incident with the boy,
I told about my anxiety,
and he was understanding.

he understood my thoughts,
and he always had advice and the words of reassurance.
the messages we shared made me smile,
although inevitably,
I was hurt someway
or the other.

despite the scars, I fell into the hole,
the hole we call Love,
deeper.

there was superglue in the bottom of that hole.