Over My Dead Body

by Maz Evans

‘Sorry is a meaningless transaction from the unimaginative to the undeserving,’ she insisted. ‘If you really care, send a hamper.’

‘Blood isn’t thicker than water,’ Dan used to say, ‘it just stains the carpet more.’

I’ve been waiting for the Stairway to Heaven, not the Shopping Centre Lift to Hell. I’M A CELESTIAL – GET ME OUT OF HERE . . . !

‘Due to Covid-19, we are experiencing a higher volume of the Recently Living than normal,’

I snorted🤣

Wonderful. A talker. Why am I always next to the talkers? I’ve got my own problems. I say nothing in the hope it will dissuade her. It doesn’t.

My thought process at every social interaction I ever have.

‘Ultimately, you know how good or bad a person you are – indeed you are the only individual who knows the truth of you. Some can try to hide it, deny it, lie about it or exaggerate it. But even those MPs know how they’ve really behaved. Your conscience cannot lie

I’ve always been able to find a loophole. I’d rather die than stay here. And yet even that loophole is denied me . . .

I choked on my apple juice fml I love this book

Despondent people do stupid things.

I’m currently the despondent person, this book is hilarious when reading it in the middle of a mental breakdown stuck in hospital for 18 months and currently on 1:1 support LMAO

You realise most friends are like the clubbing outfits you keep in the back of the wardrobe – you’re holding on to them more for the memories they evoke than any realistic sense that they still fit you.

‘But being alive is not the same as having a life. In youth, you fear death. In middle age, you fear dying. In old age, you fear life. So no. Death doesn’t scare me. Not half as much as living does.’

I snort again. I like tipsy Winnie. She’s like a Manx cat. The more you look at her, the less unattractive she appears.

There were so many simple sensations I never appreciated while I was alive. I’m cherishing every one from here on out.

Losing a parent is a life sentence with no crime.

things can change at any moment. Surely the last few days have shown you that? You’ve been more alive than ever! You’ve lived more this week than I’ve seen you live since you moved here! Martin said that no death is written in stone. You don’t know what might happen between now and Saturday—’

Numquam deprecaris.

Never Apologise

A hangover to a recovering alcoholic is like childbirth to a second-time mother – you completely forget how bad it is until you do it again.

‘Things can change,’ she sighs. ‘Nothing is written. So I’m going to take my chances with today. Just like I have every other day for the past seventy-eight years. Who knows what the day will bring? That’s what life is all about.’

Hospital time is curiously elastic. As a doctor, an eight-hour shift can feel like five minutes or four years. As a patient, time stops altogether. But, as someone waiting, it is interminable.

Elderly relatives are like gym memberships. They seem like a good idea and you visit enthusiastically the first few times. But, after a while, you just can’t be arsed. Even when you know you really should be and it would probably do you some good.

But once solitude ceases to be a choice, I suspect it’s not nearly as appealing.

‘If you can hear me,’ she says, ‘I just want to say . . . I just want to say thank you. For saving my life.’ Mate, I was already dead. No biggie. ‘Not for taking the knife. Although I wish I could have lived to see that – it must have been hilarious,’ says the vindictive shrew. ‘But for reminding me that I had a life worth saving. It is a gift and I will cherish it.’

For the first time ever, I return a hug. It’s weird, but feels oddly satisfying. Like a trip to the dental hygienist.

‘Oh, will you PLEASE get a move on!’ huffs my mother. ‘I’m telling you now, that beautiful quiche Lorraine will be soggier than my late Aunt Sally by the time we get home.’ My dad and I look at each other and burst out laughing. Good old Mum. Never one to let psychological completion get in the way of good shortcrust.

From sobbing with emotion to howling in 0.5 seconds flat pahaha

‘Mummy!’ he screams, his face illuminated with joy.

Oh my, this is too much im crying again

‘Well, I like to defy the odds,’

‘Good things come to those who wait.’

Speaking of which, what are you still doing here? Seriously, go and get on with your life – according to your records, you don’t have time to waste . . . And while we’re on the subject, for the love of Gucci, change that outfit. You don’t want to get stuck in those clothes for Eternity, believe me.

But until then, my friend . . . Be good. And if you can’t be good? Get better.

Reading this book in a mental health crisis must've been for a reason. This will now be my emotional support book from now on.