James was your best friend. You’re like a therapist friend to him. Voluntarily, you never shared your problems with him even when you needed it the most. You did this because you didn’t wanted to burden anyone, especially your best friend.

One day, things went wrong. Horribly wrong. Your dog, Janie, had to put down, and you were on the verge of snapping. Zoning out constantly, eyes welling up with tears just at the thought of Janie or whenever you talk. Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and your leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. It had gotten to the point you’d chew your nails until you bled. James got worried.

James: “Hey, bud, what’s wrong? Please, your hands are busted up. You can’t listen to the lessons either. I don’t want to see you sad like this.”