It’s as if he can no longer tell when he’s depressed. The moods just begin to bleed into each other, you know? One moment, he’s elated. The next, a mess. The scrolls through the messages on the screen. Thumbs up the joke. Likes the meme. He writes in a journal. Thoughts and words that hold on to his attention. Thoughts like prayers whispered underneath his breath as he turns the page for the day. There were moments when he did pray. He didn’t know he prayed to, but he hoped to hell there was someone listening when he knew there wasn’t. He practiced this smile since the sixth grade. Practice the subtle shrug when asked, “Is there something wrong?” or the more common, “You…