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Kindle Notes & Highlights
Physical pain was easy to handle. People understand physical pain – they empathize with it. But when you are depressed, the only person they blame is you. They look at you with judging eyes, wondering why you can’t simply snap out of it. As if it was a choice you were making on purpose, choosing to remain in mental anguish, and revel in it. My suffering was too intense for people to comprehend. No one could fathom stepping into my shoes. I couldn’t blame them. Who would want to, even if they could?
Love stories are like religion; people need something to believe in, something to cling to, even if they never actually find out whether it exists.
“Please. Cinderella loses a shoe and it leads her perfect guy right to her. In real life, if a girl loses her shoe at midnight it just means she’s drunk.”
It’s like an eternal feeling of wanting to go home, but never actually getting there. I’m stuck searching for that sense of comfort, not knowing if I’ll ever feel it again.
“You seem so sad and guarded on the outside. But once in a while, you smile, and it’s like a hint of sunshine comes across your face, just for a moment.”
Sometimes, you can’t help the people you love. It wasn’t me who wasn’t enough. Sometimes, love isn’t enough.
Guilt is as strong an addiction as any; she forces your mind to become her handmaiden, creating thoughts and emotions that validate and perpetuate her.
