he sits there in front of the blank screen, his fingers caressing the keys, old friends finally united, but like always there is that awkwardness, it wasn’t felt at first but it made it’s presence known by a taste in the air. something had changed. the conversation that was once there died and they’re bond had been broken. but why, what had changed. This was something that always came naturally so why, why now would it suddenly fade away as if it never were. his fingers continued caressing the keys, only to hear the familiar click. He stopped and realized it mustn’t be the keyboard for it is a keyboard, it is an inanimate object and therefor cannot change, so then the change was in him. but he had not changed, he had always been so. but if that were so then why was there this awkwardness that pungent taste in the air. Then it dawned on him he had changed, he had lost her and that had changed him, changed him so much he could no longer live his old life. He was disgusted by how much he allowed someone to change him, to alter his personality his habits, his hobbies and yet he bore no grudge towards her.

the proceeding months he spent withering away, the words, the knowledge, the joy all went along with him until he reached bottom, until he determined there was nothing left to bring him joy yet realized there was nothing to bring him agony either, and that’s when it hit him, if he believed this to be, that this was indeed the cause of depression then why, had he always felt this numbness, this distance that he feels now. even as a child he was this way, so then could it really be depression, or does he display the symptoms simply cause that’s what he was looking for all along, an excuse, a barrier. But when he met her she managed to not only pass it but reach him, to know him, the real him and even grew to love him. she was the first to do so, to destroy his barrier, to steal his excuse.

Time went by and he found he could now function as “a normal” member of society, no longer plagued by “depression” he sat back down in front of the computer and began typing. fervently his fingers blazed across the keyboards nothing more then a blur of color as he spun a tale of deceit, and discovery, romance and tragedy, life and death. then when it was finished, when he had wrote all he had to write he deleted the file, unplugged his computer and began a new life.