Who works at IHOP? A girl with one leg.
P1: Why did the chicken cross the road?
P2: To get to the other side DUH?!?
P1: No dumbass, it's to get run over because he has depression, a chronic illness, and his father left him for a good for nothing pimp that doesn’t even give a shit about how he feels. (Kinda like me).
P2: Holy shit are u ok? *Some random eavesdropping fucker dials 911 in a hurry*
Just all us depressed people joking about our depressed lives, we should hang out sometime.
What do you call a depressed person?
Me.
Knock knock.
Who's there?
Insomnia.
You'll fit right in along with Depression and anxiety, you can help keep me awake at night because Depression is struggling with that... Well now I can't cry myself to sleep anymore...
You know what relationships and life? They both come to an end.
Happiness is like food, not everyone gets it.
It must not be a good suicide story if you can tell it.
To whomever stole my anti-depression pills, I hope you're happy now.
Are you a knife? Because damn, I want you inside of me ;)
An obese, depressed mother is trying to tie a noose, but can't reach it, so she calls her son for help.
*A few minutes later*
son: There.
mother: Where did you learn to tie such a good noose?
son: Dad showed me before he died.
mother: DAMN HIM TO HE- *slips and the noose chokes her to death*
It's funny that everyone is depressed, like, I mean:
Bullys are depressed.
Nerds are depressed.
Bad girls/boys are depressed.
Kind humans are depressed.
What is the difference between a sloth and a depressed kid? A sloth doesn't need a rope to hang.
Nobody notices your pain, tears, struggles, but why do they notice your mistakes?
It's all fun and games until someone fails at becoming Superman.
How do you get your grass to cut itself?
Make it depressed.
Can orphans go to a family restaurant?
My day started out great until I woke up.
I was having issues in my personal and professional life. I hated everyone. I was on the brink of a mental breakdown and depression. I decided to see a therapist about it. The therapist suggested that I should write letters to the people I hate and then burn them. I must admit I feel much better...
But now I don't know what to do with the letters.
What is the difference between me and a knife?
The knife has a point.
The ones you hate most are also the ones who are by your side most.
