the end of the world is a euphemism for sadness

Chapter 1

i. it doesn't have to be the end of the world for you to be sad. she reminds me, as I sink into the chair. it feels as if its pulling me in. deeper and deeper I go, through my brain and into the chair. "Come back." She says, commanding me to snap out of my phase. ii. i snap out of this, and stare at her in the face. she is tired, probably of her everyday struggles with me. although she would never admit this. it's good to feel emotions, sadness tells you you are living. She says, oblivious to my hesitation. iii. she sends me out an hour later with a new bottle of pills. when will they learn that the pills aren't helping me. i keep a smile on my face for him. it's not because I don't wish to share my feelings. it's because I don't want to pull him into my struggles. iiii. i'm so cliche. he tells me that. never in a bad sense, though it feels like it. he is one of the few who cares. he is the only person that didn't leave well, the only person that didn't leave because they didn't have to stay iiiii. I sit and write on Sundays, while he sits on the couch and pets the cat as he watches TV. he was the only perfect thing on the planet. but I suppose perfection is in the eye of the beholder. I drink coffee as we sit, on sundays. He has the occasional reaction to whatever he's watching. I base my writing off of him. iiiiii. people are gone to fast, he tells me today. he looks me straight in the eyes as he says this. but he also supposes everyone leaves for their reason, at their times. that would be something we agree on at face value. iiiiii. he finally left. rather, he was taken to soon as he would say. he left me for happiness. which is what he deserves. he always did. now, do I feel true sadness? how can someone feel so sad that they can't think over their thoughts? that they never recover? i don't have the answer, but i have the problem, and if someone were to help me figure it out, I would finally rest in peace.