There is a kid who sits behind me in third period

His name is Blake

Blake who matches brown with black
Blake that carries ballpoint pens
And Blake that chews on the ends
I know because borrow them

I never have pens
I never carry anything permanent

Blake has a voice that never changes pitches
But his voice never speaks less than the truth

The truth
I'd ask to borrow that too
But it's silly to ask for something you can't possibly obtain

---

Today Blake pulled out a pen
And wrote out the word Depression

I turned around and looked at it

"Maybe I'm depressed"

He replied with silence
I swallowed the idea
"No, I laugh too much to be depressed"
I turned to face forward again

Later, he tapped me on the shoulder
And he handed me the truth
Inscribed on a small piece of paper

"The most depressed people appear to be the happiest"

I laughed