when desperation visits
I shall hang myself
to the sound of my lover's breathing
I do not want to die
I have become so depressed by the fact of my mortality that I have decided to commit suicide
I do not want to live
When he wakes he will envy my sleepless night of thought and speech unslurred by medication
I have resigned myself to death this year
Some will call this self-indulgence
(they are lucky not to know its truth)
Some will know the simple fact of pain
This is becoming my normality”
Kas sinu depressioon on erilisem?
“Sometimes I turn around and catch the smell of you and I cannot go on I cannot fucking go on without expressing this terrible so fucking awful physical aching fucking longing I have for you. And I cannot believe that I can feel this for you and you feel nothing. Do you feel nothing?
And I go out at six in the morning and start my search for you. If I've dreamt a message of a street or a pub or a station I go there. And I wait for you.
You know, I really fel like I'm being manipulated.
I've never in my life had a problem giving another person what they want. But no one's ever been able to do that for me. No one touches me, no one gets near to me. But now you've touched me somewhere so fucking deep I can't believe and I can't be that for you. Because I can't find you.”
How do you do? I'm fine, thank you.
“- It's not your fault, that's all I ever hear, it's not your fault, it's an illness, it's not your fault, I know it's not my fault. You've told me that so often I'm beginning to think it is my fault.
- It's not your fault.
- I KNOW
- But you allow it.
- There's not a drug on earth can make life meaningful.
- You allow this state of desperate absurdity.
You allow it.
- I won't be able to think. I won't be able to work.
- Nothing will interfere with your work like suicide.”
Ka psühholoogid on inimesed.
“You'll be all right. You're strong. I know you'll be okay because I like you and you can't like someone who doesn't like themselves. The people I fear for are the ones I don't like because they hate themselves so much they won't let anyone else like them either. But I do like you. I'll miss you. And I know you'll be ok.
Most of my clients want to kill me. When I walk out of here at the end of the day I need to go home to my lover and relax. I need to be with my friends and relax. I need my friends to be really together.
I fucking hate this job and I need my friends to be sane.