Strangers
Strangers depression stories
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ahmadh
ahmadh A writer in my sparetime.
Autoplay OFF   •   16 days ago
It's too depressing to go out in public anymore. Too many happy people, too many missed

Strangers

My friend took me out for drinks tonight. He said that I should branch out, that I should find a girl: as if it were that easy. I'm not even sure how we even became friends in the first place.

We were just roommates by chance in college and it stuck. Ever since then, I've never found anybody even after we graduated.

"Enough!" He said, dragging me out of our apartment. "Tonight we find you a woman!"

Of course he was swarmed by them. It was as if he completely forgot about me. So enamoured by strangers who were clearly more interested in his credit card.

I walked outside for a smoke on the balcony. The line for the bar stretched for blocks upon blocks.

So many pretty girls giggling as they talked to their friends, gripping the arms and hands of their lovers. I won't lie, I felt jealous.

In the end it doesn't matter. The next day will be the same. I'll drag myself out of bed, have some coffee and go to work. It's ironic.

I look back through the glass doors of the bar door, taking a drag of my cigarette, seeing my friend talking with girls with plastic smiled fixated on his wallet. I envied him.

To have a person look at me without it being an accident. To have somebody even talk to me without it feeling like an obligation, not just because we had to share rent.

I turned around and looked back into the street. I began looking at people, but I quickly looked away. It was too depressing. Too depressing to see all of the smiling faces on the street.

Not knowing where the night will take them, the hope in their eyes. That hope died long ago for me, I thought to myself as the last of my cigarette burnt away.

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