“Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you for rejecting me by never being there, fuck you for making me feel like shit about myself, fuck you for bleeding the fucking love and life out of me, fuck my father for fucking up my life for good and fuck my mother for not leaving him, but most of all, fuck you God for making me love a person who does not exist.
FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU.”
“Sometimes I turn around and catch the smell of you and I cannot go on I cannot fucking go on without expressing this terrible so fucking awful physical aching fucking longing I have for you. And I cannot believe that I can feel this for you and you feel nothing. Do you feel nothing?”
“They will love me for that which destroys me.”
“You’ll be all right. You’re strong. I know you’ll be okay because I like you and you can’t like someone who doesn’t like themself. The people I fear for are the ones who I don’t like because they hate themselves so much they won’t let anyone else like them either. But I do like you. I’ll miss you. And I know you’ll be okay.”
“Have you made any plans?
Take an overdose, slash my wrists then hang myself.
All those things together?
It couldn't possibly be misconstrued as a cry for help.”
“Of course I loved you, you saved my life. I wish you hadn’t I wish you hadn’t I wish you’d left me alone.”
“Embrace beautiful lies - the chronic insanity of the sane”
“- I won't be able to think. I won't be able to work.
- Nothing will interfere with your work like suicide.
(Silence)
- I dreamt that I went to the doctor's and she gave me eight minutes to live. I'd been sitting in the fucking waiting room for half an hour.
(A long silence)
- Okay, let's do it, let's do the drugs, let's do the chemical lobotomy, let's shut down the higher functions of my brain and perhaps I'll be a bit more fucking capable of living.
Let's do it.”
“Built to be lonely
to love the absent.
Find me
Free me
from this
corrosive doubt
futile despair
horror in repose.
I can fill my space
fill my time
but nothing can fill this void in my heart.”
“It is myself I have never met, whose face is pasted on the underside of my mind.”
“I dread the loss of her I've never touched
love keeps me a slave in a cage of tears
I gnaw my tongue with which to her I can never speak
I miss a woman who was never born
I kiss a woman across the years that say we shall never meet
Everything passes
Everything perishes
Everything palls
my thought walks away with a killing smile
leaving discordant anxiety
which roars in my soul
No hope No hope No hope No hope No hope No hope No hope”
“I’m tired of my life and my mind wants to die.”
“I hope you never understand, because I like you. I like you, I like you.”
“But you have friends.
You have a lot of friends.
What do you offer your friends to make them so supportave.
What do you offer your friends to make them so supportave
what do you offer. "
...if I could remember any more of my lines I'd add them
so basically this is a preface to the whole play. I would like to quote the whole play. Currently my mind is afraid to remember the play.”
“Please. Don’t switch off my mind by attempting to straighten me out. Listen and understand, and when you feel contempt don’t express it, at least not verbally, at least not to me.”
“the chicken's still dancing
the chicken won't stop”
“I know. I’m angry because I understand, not because I don’t.”
“When depression visits
I shall hang myself
to the sound of my lover's breathing”
“(A very long silence.)
- But you have friends.
(A long silence.)
You have a lot of friends.
What do you offer your friends to make them so supportive?
(A long silence.)
What do you offer your friends to make them so supportive?
(A long silence.)
What do you offer?
(Silence.)
-----”
“the only thing that's permanent is destruction
we're all going to disappear
trying to leave a mark more permanent that myself.”
“I've never in my life had a problem giving another person what they
want. But no one's ever been able to do that for me. No one touches me,
no one gets near me. But now you've touched me somewhere so fucking
deep I can't believe and I can't be that for you. Because I can't find you.”
“They will love me for that which destroys me
the sword in my dreams
the dust of my thoughts
the sickness that breeds in the folds of my mind”
“I sing without hope on the boundary”
“I cannot touch my essential self.”
“But I am not here and never have been.”
“It is myself I have never met, whose face is pasted on the underside of my mind”
“A room of expressionless faces staring blankly at my pain, so devoid of meaning there must be evil intent.”
“You artists think you’re the only ones who can relate to these things. Many of us have the same feelings, the same emptiness, the same loneliness. But we don’t have the tools to verbalize them. So we carry on, we struggle. Feelings are feelings. I think people’s feelings are pretty much the same all over the world.”
“We lose and lose, but we're still here. Shaking in place, afraid of doing something. I'm tires of settling for this because I don't know if something better exists. It has to. What point is there otherwise? I can do something about it. And I will.”
“It was so quiet you could hear a fly run into a wall. Everyone was staring at me like I’d just pulled up my shirt and asked for some beads.”
“I don't know what I was hoping for. Some small praise, I guess. A bit of encouragement. I didn't get it. Miss Parrish took me aside one day after school let out. She said she'd read my stories and found them morbid and dispiriting. She said literature was meant to uplift the heart and that a young woman such as myself ought to turn her mind to topics more cheerful and inspiring than lonely hermits and dead children.
"Look around yourself, Mathilda," she said. "At the magnificence of nature. It should inspire joy and awe. Reverence. Respect. Beautiful thoughts and fine words."
I had looked around. I'd seen all the things she'd spoken of and more besides. I'd seen a bear cub lift it's face to the drenching spring rains. And the sliver moon of winter, so high and blinding. I'd seen the crimson glory of a stand of sugar maples in autumn and the unspeakable stillness of a mountain lake at dawn. I'd seen them and loved them. But I'd also seen the dark of things. The starved carcasses of winter deer. The driving fury of a blizzard wind. And the gloom that broods under the pines always. Even on the brightest days.”
“At my age, if I make it up, it's still an old saying.”
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