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‘The pills are just a new sort of sadness,’ she’d say. ‘Softer, slyer.’
They are, like everybody, fearful of being completely alone and suspicious of people who choose to be.
And I felt like such a failure. I thought: I can’t even do mental illness properly.
‘There really isn’t much wrong with me,’ I say, ‘it’s just that, well, I’m not like other people; I don’t want the things they want. And this is not right, I mean, in other people’s eyes, and I feel as though they feel they are duty-bound to normalise me, that it isn’t okay just to not want the things they want, you know?’
