Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Prozac Nation

"I found myself wishing for a real ailment, found myself longing to be a junkie or a cokehead or something- something real...Rescued. That's what it looked like to me. Drug addicts had the crutch of a tangible problem...Depression was the loneliest fucking thing on earth. There were no halfway houses for depressives, no Depression Anonymous meetings that I knew of. Yes, of course, there were mental hospitals...but I couldn't hope to end up in one of those places unless I made a suicide attempt serious enough to warrant oxygen or stitches or a stomach pump...I used to wish-to pray to god for the courage, and the strength-that I'd have the guts not to get better, but to slit my wrists and get a whole lot worse so that I could land in some mental ward, where real help might have been possible."
-Elizabeth Wurtzel

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