Puke and starve and cut and drink because you don’t want to feel any of this. Puke and starve and cut and drink because you need an anesthetic and it works. For awhile. But then the anesthetic turns into poison and by then it’s to late because you are maintaining it now,straight into your soul. It is rotting you and you can’t stop.
Depression is a disorder of mood, so mysteriously painful and elusive in the way it becomes known to the self — to the mediating intellect— as to verge close to being beyond description. It thus remains nearly incomprehensible to those who have not experienced it in its extreme mode.
William Styron, Darkness Visible: A Memoir of Madness
When I fell asleep, my soul became consumed in a black void. I no longer awoke in the mornings refreshed; I was tired and told myself that I had one day less to live in this world. I shuffled through my chores, dreading every moment of every day. With no dreams, I found that words like hope and faith were only letters, randomly put together into something meaningless - words only for fairy tales.
I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.
She never utters a sound even when she’s crying, and that makes me a little sad. Doesn’t seem right. When you cry, people should hear you. The world should stop.
Contrary to Literature Creep's mascot Little Bernard and Grown-Up Bernard, while I do need spectacles, I am only a slick Romeo when reading from the male perspective.
Hi, I'm Kat.
I creep on writers. I hope you'll join me. For all of your literary quandaries or just to drop off suggestions, ask is open.
