I wrote a story once. It got traction, traffic. It was about a girl. Her name was Joy. Of course if you read the story, you know the name was ironic or is it paradoxical? I forget sometimes, it’s been awhile since I studied for an English paper. I digress. Joy was sad. Really sad. And so she did something bad. Really bad(my tone has to be annoying, well, I know. And I do not care. This is my story anyway).
So back to Joy. Sorry, I tend to get easily distracted. I have always wondered if I am a neuro divergent. Anyway, story for another day. I did it again, didn’t I?
Seriously though, Joy. She had acute depression at the time, though she didn’t know it. But others should have known, her friends should have. Then maybe then, just maybe, she would have been saved. But all that is useless now, isn’t it?
“For all the people who thought I would tell this story again, my deepest apologies. I probably should have put a disclaimer/warning. But then again, all that is useless now, isn’t it?”
