Sad Janet: ‘A whip-smart, biting tragicomedy’ HuffPost

by Lucie Britsch

I could whack my head on the sink at any moment. I could do that.

I’m thinking about how the world is awful right now, but I think I always knew it was.

For as long as I can remember feeling things, I’ve felt sadness.

But that’s not the sadness I’m preoccupied with. Mine isn’t one I can put my finger on. It’s an all-encompassing feeling, like my lungs are filled with it instead of air.

The existentialists made it a whole thing—literally made the emptiness of life into a movement—but you have to embrace the sadness to be in their club.

I’m fine with all of it, whatever you want to call it. I’m not a goth, though, so there’s hope.

They really want me to be happy, and I’m really not that fussed.

Sometimes I think it’s my fault that I let the sadness in.

I used to make these crying tapes of sad songs that I’d listen to at night when I was in my bed and supposed to be sleeping but I wasn’t, I was crying.

maybe I willed it to me, the sadness.

Antidepressants are good now, they say. Real progress has been made.

On the plus side, there’s no stigma now that everyone’s medicated.

Still, like with all relationships, I kept letting it screw me because I didn’t know how to tell it I wasn’t really into it anymore.

If you aren’t in a festive onesie, grinning because Christmas, you might as well kill yourself.

She wanted a little carton of milk, but I refused because that’s weird, so we compromised on a shake.

I’m not a complete bitch.

some men do like medicated ladies.

mother. People always lure me out. Men, mostly. Worrying they’ve done something, which they have usually.

I’m not out to make anyone else sad.

I can still smile when it’s required, laugh when something is funny.

I’d come to see him about not sleeping,

I am a fan of myself, even if no one else is.

I was already there, looking for books that would tell me how to hex them all.

If enough people tell you that you have no life, you start to believe them.

he was never particularly happy either. He just thought his girlfriend should be.

I ended up sharing a house with three girls I failed to bond with, and now I have to lug that failure around with me, with all my others, for the rest of my life.

I was the funny semi-goth who only came out of her room to eat and shit,

Mirtazapine, to calm her down. And it did—so much that it took her an hour to crawl out of bed and another hour to crawl to class

It’s enough to make you want to kill yourself, but we’re a no-kill shelter.

Pissing people off is my reward.

my bigger problem is letting people who aren’t trustworthy into my life.

It’s safer to assume everyone’s an ass and let them surprise you.

I just don’t use my phone to call people, in the hope that people will return the favor by not calling me.

Sarah’s this overweight black lab with food issues and anger issues, like a lot of us.

If I loved myself more, maybe things would be different.

like my brain is one of those closets you never want to open because everything will fall out and crush you.

He should have known then I was a tricky one.

I didn’t know how to say Fuck me but don’t fuck me up;

All I ever want is a nap.

best to play at being someone else. Dressing

yourself is exhausting; having to think about your body is exhausting.

I love October.

tell your doctor about your friend who’s a buzzkill and we’ll medicate them for you!

That’s fucked up, the boyfriend said.

I know you’re not supposed to mix alcohol and pharmaceuticals, but it’s the holidays.

there was no point cursing the most powerful of all witches.

Debs isn’t sad, she’s angry mostly, but no one knows why.

Bodies are just another thing that can make us sad,

live in someone else’s domain for too long, and you’re bound to suffocate eventually.

I’m still listening to life going on around me, but now I want them all to shut the fuck up so I can sleep.