Scarred

In middle school, I knew a boy. He was in eighth grade, while I was in seventh, and he was pretty nice. He liked the same music as me, and was really funny. The only thing was, he was depressed. I didn't know what someone being depressed looked like, until he revealed that he wanted something to cut himself with. I asked him why, and he said, "Because I'm depressed". He was one of my friends, and I don't want to see anything happen to him. I don't know why he was depressed, but I didn't ask. If he wanted to reveal to me what he was depressed about, that was going to be his choice. The only thing I really cared about personally was making sure that he was okay. He was scarred, and I cared about him greatly. To this day, I still don't know what his emotional scar was.