I am so sorry I killed you with salad dressing. If only I'd had a burger instead.
It’s okay. It’s not your fault that I’m so drawn to citrus-based vinaigrettes that I can’t stay away even when death is an inevitable consequence. At least it was delicious. I am afraid, however, that my relatives may choose to avenge me by hovering *right* next to your ear for the duration of your meal the next time you eat outside, though.
“Madness is too glamorous a term to convey what happens to most people who are losing their minds. That word is too exciting, too literary, too interesting in its connotations, to convey the boredom, the slowness, the dreariness, the dampness of depression…depression is pure dullness, tedium straight up. Depression is, especially these days, an overused term to be sure, but never one associated with anything wild, anything about dancing all night with a lampshade on your head and then going home and killing yourself…The word madness allows its users to celebrate the pain of its sufferers, to forget that underneath all the acting-out and quests for fabulousness and fine poetry, there is a person in huge amounts of dull, ugly agony…Remember that when you’re at the point at which you’re doing something as desperate and violent as sticking your head in an oven, it is only because the life that preceded this act felt even worse. Think about living in depression from moment to moment, and know it is not worth any of the great art that comes as its by-product.”—Prozac Nation by Elizabeth Wurtzel (via thechocolatebrigade) (via missworld) (via girlvanized)
My sister Kandi and her family are going to be here in less than 3 hours. The second she gets through the door I think I’m going to time how long it is before she says, “You’re weird, Shae,” and rolls her eyes. It always happens and always feels like the worst insult.
I’ve found myself in the same kind of situation. My Dad once asked me (in a kind of frustrated desperation) “Why can’t you just be normal?” It stung.
I take comfort in the fact that my husband and my friends love the things about me that lead other people to say things like that.
Me: Would you like to play soccer in the park today? The Girl: No, I hate soccer. Victoria is always there and she bugs me. Me: Oh dear. Why is that? The Girl: She’s always saying stuff like, (mock whining voice) “Why don’t you play soccer?” and “Hi, how are you?” Me: … You’re not much for small talk, are you? The Girl: She drives me crazy! I just want to jump on the trampoline with the boys.