dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night.."
Help me break away
From my mind’s unyielding grasp
And it’s blaring scream..
It is not our silence that is deafening, but all the words underneath it, yelled in our heads."
It’s been almost four years now. I could still remember the way you smile. I can still picture the twinkle in your eye whenever I tell you how much you mean to me. Your laughter is a ghost that constantly haunts me. I miss the talking, the nonsensical chats, the secrets exchanged. I miss how you can remember every detail of the stories I shared. I miss how you can sense my mood even without me talking. I miss your arms around me. I miss everything that we’ve lost.
No matter how much I try to squeeze your very existence into this teensy tiny box and shove into the deepest corners of my head, the memory of you gets out, piece by piece like a stubborn little kid who wouldn’t stop playing. At times, I delude myself into thinking that I have successfully wiped you clean from my brain. But then I would hear this one song, and then the moments we shared would just flash in front of my eyes like a glimpse of recorded videos. And then I would become all miserable knowing that I failed, yet again.
I guess it’s because you were my first in everything. You were the first one who have reached into my very core, in the deepest, most personal way. You were the first person I learned to depend on without any doubts. You became my confidant, the one I fully trust. I grew so attached. You were more than just a boyfriend. You took parts of me and I took some of yours. As cliché and corny as it may sound, you were my puzzle piece.
And when all of it ended, you took that one important piece which, up until now, is a gap that I can’t seem to fill. Yes, we might me “friends” right now, but every time I see you and spend time with you, I can’t help but imagine how it would be like if it worked out between us. Whenever we talk and laugh at past jokes and memories, my mind wanders to an alternate universe where the puzzle is still complete, intact.
Leave me alone with these surging emotions
A captive of my head’s boisterous thoughts
Let me bask inside this deranged mind
A slave to my own uncertainties and insecurities..
Prozac Nation by Elizabeth Wurtzel
I cannot think of any book hated by everyone but I like. I thought of the Twilight series being hated by everyone, but I don’t like it either. So I scanned my shelf and remembered this book. It isn’t exactly dislike by everyone, but I have heard and read a lot about people not liking the theme of this book. So, I guess this is the closest I can get to satisfying this day’s book challenge.
This book is a memoir of Wurtzel’s struggle with depression when she was 26 years old. In this book, we would learn about the events that could have caused the downspiralling of her life. It is a journal that details her drug use, sex binges, hospitalizations, suicide attempts and everything that constitutes her dark days. It is a tale of a person living with a severe psychological disorder.
Now, from what I read, a lot of people found this book harrowing since it is a very vivid self-portrait of someone’s mental illness. Some say that it is just a book made to bid public attention. And some say that nothing can be learned from the book itself, that it’s useless. Perhaps they were expecting some sort of revelation and lessons in the end or maybe they wanted to know how she coped and got over her problems, but I guess that wasn’t the author’s intention.
Personally, I read this book with difficulty because there are times I can see myself reflected on the words and descriptions of the character. At some point, I can relate with how she feels and the problems she experienced. I guess, I didn’t really care much about how she found herself and made her life better. I think I liked the book because it openly and bravely showed the moments of her life in which she felt the most difficult of emotions. Just how many people can be like that and tell the world of their darkest, most awful experiences?
I don’t think Wurtzel wanted attention or anything of that sort. I think she wrote this book to let people know about what’s going on in the minds of those psychologically challenged. Because really, we can never fully grasp the enormity of their problems. Yes, all of us have their own difficulties, but can we imagine how bad it feels when these problems eat us alive and take over the rest of our being? I think that was the purpose of this book: to show that it’s not attention but understanding and acceptance these people need. But then, don’t we all?
When you are forced to study everyday for every subject, you’ll eventually get tired of the whole routine. I feel it now. With quizzes everyday and written reports every week, who wouldn’t feel exhausted? Everything is just so habitual that I am so bored with the things I’m doing in school. Yes, I get that it is necessary, given the course I chose, but sometimes I wish I could rest even just for a week. I badly need more sleep in my system. I feel like my brain is already overused. There are so many information in my head, especially this week since it’s our prelim exam week. I just want this week to be over. I want to rest and stop reading these thickset of books. I miss the lightness of reading novels and fictional books.