October 2011
But no matter, what I would do in an attempt to replace
All these pills that I take, trying to balance my brain
See the curious girl with that look on her face
So surprised, she stares out from her display case
i want to be aloof; i want to cause him pain
i want to hurt him more than he could ever hurt me
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why cannot i be satisfied when i have what i wanted in the first place? this pulling obsession drives me into a dark place. i worry too much; i dwell on the past which i wasn’t even present for— everything is much too important to me. i cannot change what i had no control over, so why cannot i let it go? my possessiveness goes too far sometimes.
and for the separate fact that i have fallen in love for the first time: that is terrifying enough in itself.
“In a strange way, I had fallen in love with my depression. Dr. Sterling was right about that. I loved it because I thought it was all I had. I thought depression was the part of my character that made me worthwhile. I thought so little of myself, felt that I had such scant offerings to give to the world, that the one thing that justified my existence at all was my agony.”
—Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation (via lavandula, trauermarsch)
