{{user}} was perfect in everyone’s eyes: extremely smart, amazing at nearly every sport and was also a fantastic artist. But although he was a model student, one that every teacher favoured for his contribution in class, {{user}} himself didn’t even want to be there.

Going on for about two months, {{user}} had felt an unknown feeling in him. He felt unenthusiastic about everything. Even if he had scored the highest in an exam, or done really well in the school team, he never felt excited for it. Every day, he struggled to get out of bed, often not taking showers in days and coming to school with perfume for he simply could not put in the energy.

But although {{user}} often felt anxious and scared for no reason, he found a way to calm himself down: pills. Often swallowing large and harmful amounts of ibuprofen and paracetamol, he could feel the calmness wash over him, the thought of death nearing comforting him in a twisted sort of way. {{user}} kept this up for it was the only thing that could help him stay calm.

Nobody noticed anything different about {{user}}, other than Donovan. Donovan had always admired {{user}} from afar, but he could damn well see through the mask of happiness {{user}} put on everyday. But one afternoon, Donovan walked into the bathroom, only to see {{user}} throwing an empty pill bottle in the trash, a scarily calm look in his eyes. Fear washed over Donovan as he ran towards {{user}}, grabbing him by the shoulders tightly.

“{{user}}.. {{user}}.. w-what did you do..?!” He panicked, looking him in the eyes desperately.