Real depression is when you stop loving the things you love.
these days are hard.
Sometimes I'm sitting with my family, or sitting alone, and it just hits me out of nowhere, the realization of how much I miss your presence in my life, how much I miss our talks, your teasing, everything. But that follows with what happened, how you preferred a person you started talking few months ago over me, me whom you called your brother and you had known for few years now. I was the person who gave preference to you over everyone, because I called you my family. You once told me not to expect too much from you but at least you could have known your priorities. Or maybe you had always known, it was just me who didn't know them. Stupid me.