What's the Name of That Book??? discussion

UNSOLVED: One specific book > About teenage depression after death of best friend

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message 1: by Desiree (new)

Desiree | 1 comments It's about a girl whose best friend dies and she spirals into a severe depression. And the book kind of becomes a journal of what her depression feels like. *you can feeeeel her feels.* with poems and everything.
And then the story evolves as she comes out of her grief and depression.

I read it when I was a sophomore. Maybe a freshman. In high school.
Around 1991 or 92. Thats when I read it, I have no idea when it was written. I felt like it wasnt that old at that time.
And the book resonates in my soul and I need to find it.

And I have zero idea what it's called or who it's by. I did find it on the interwebs about 10 years ago and found out it was out of print (which is a damn shame) but I'm still hopeful I can find it.

I found some typed (on an actual typewriter) poems/excerpts from the book that I had but there are no notes is title or author. Grrrr @ me! (Please, forgive any typos I cracked this out on my phone.)
Here are some of the excerpts from the book:

Journal of the cracked mind.
I am a large shadow of you. I am what you were and what you hoped to be. I am a mirror before you and its reflection after. I am what you are after you were. Without you I would not have been. And now that you are gone will I grow I to myself and become you? We are alike. In vanishing you have only left yourself behind.

Slouching towards the end of the world.
I heard the sun rising this morning. It went up into the sky and cracked my heart open. My blood beat in steaks across the clouds and reminds me of wondering on a beach with marbled seaweed. The emerald light strikes you in the face with green and gold. Don't you hear the elephants outside? Can't you hear them stepping softly as they go, the caskets on their backs. She lies in peace, her face is painted white, her eyes are closed. She goes.
She has no idea that there are no new waves, only the ocean crying in sameness. And if the tears are like waves, them waves are also salty tears. The oceans song.
The earth was my father, my husband, my lover, my brother. Because we long to dance, birds fly. Because we want to soar with them, the winds blow. Because we want to be the wind, we are anchored to the ground.
The air is waiting for me to speak. I stop moving. I am alone. My tune is the earth's turning. Moon of my eyes and wind of my soul. I am so close to time, I may slip through and be home tomorrow or the next day.
There is a constant quivering inside me. I have to run and run until I'm somewhere. I want to die if I can get up in the morning and die again. God has left me and has not been back. I don't know if he's planning to return.

Leaving and hurrying to nowhere.
Goodbye piece of me. Noise breaking into notes exploding into music. I feel myself flowing away on emotion and coming back again on song.

In the trees.

July's journey.
Always before me, always behind, always within, racing in my mind. The trees are like the jungle. Now the air is hot. I am you. I will turn my face to follow you always. But if you pick me, will I die?
Words winding themselves around heart and mind. Tightening the web that keeps a child a child. The web is spun. The sun glistens in the innocent trap, so deadly, so fragile.
Once again, a living part of me says hurry up. Nobody is going to find you. You can vanish forever.
Sillhouettes changing forms, trying to find myself in hide-and-seek between worlds, catching memories like rain drops. Petals that float on the air, green on the changing of my mind. Forgotten goodbyes become hellos.

In the trees again. A new journal.
I was away but now I am home. I am the place where I left me.
It's spring but the air is smelling like autumn. A time lost that will come again. All my tears have fallen, have watered all the seeds that now which grow. Sunshine comes through blowy curtains. My heart leaps to be.
Counterpart, you have given me back again. You have made a person. Living, breathing, walking, talking. A beautiful thing.
Welcome to the earth..

message 2: by Rainbowheart (new)

Rainbowheart | 21141 comments Still looking, Desiree?

message 3: by Becca (new)

Becca (beccalikesbooks) | 3290 comments I'm not sure if you're still looking for this, but I typed one of the quotes into archive.org and got an exact match - The Summer Before by Patricia Windsor.

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