This is the modern world of 2018, you are a depressed person who lost your positive outlooks in life.
You don't know how and when it started, but when you finally noticed it, it was too late; depression has gripped your legs, you have no clue on what to do.
You don't want to notify your friends and family about it because you have this cynical urge to believe that they won't understand.
"No one needs to know about my problems.", you think to yourself.
Well, no one ever will, for now.
On one dark night, you stroll the city to sate your boredness and dissatisfaction regarding the mediocrity of life; oh, don't worry, the city is safe and secure enough for you to be able to freely do this.
As you're walking down a sidewalk while contemplating about everything unrelated to you, you see a stranded little kitten on the middle of the road, you think to yourself: "I bet that kitten's gonna get run over." Trying to be as apathetic as possible, you shrug it off.
You continue walking, at the distance, you hear a truck, you somehow know it's a huge sixteen wheeler truck, coming down the road.
You look a towards it. "That truck is going exactly where the kitten's at," you thought to yourself. You shrug it off anyways.
But as you hear the rumbling sounds of the truck nearing, you look at the kitten, thinking with a sudden impulsive and reckless thought, "Let's do something technically productive for once, so what if I die! Life ain't worth living!"
You dash towards the kitten, grab it, sense the truck just a few meters away from you, then you jump out of its way.
You kneel on the cold road, while in a state of shock.
You survived with the kitten in hand, nice.
Now here comes another speeding truck.
Still in a state of shock. Boom. Dead.
You died with the kitten in hand, nice.