Sometimes, I get so consumed by depression that it is hard to believe that the whole world doesn't stop and suffer with me.

I dont know if im running because i'm scared or if i'm scared because i'm running.

Love is rather impotent and pitiful: My father must have told me a million times how much he loved me, but that emotion - assuming it was even real - hardly had the strength to counter the many other acts of wrong he committed against me. Contrary to romance novels and the love-conquers-all mentality that even those of us who grow up in an era of divorce are - in response to some atavistic instinct - still raised to believe, love is always a product and a victim of circumstances. It is fragile and small.

I was so scared to give up depression, fearing that somehow the worst part of me was actually all of me.

It's like Samson and Delilah: watch your back, because trouble could be the person you're sleeping with.

You know you've completely descended into madness when the matter of shampoo has ascended to philosophical heights.

I'm the girl who is lost in space, the girl who is disappearing always, forever fading away and receding farther and farther into the background. Because with every day that goes by, I feel myself becoming more and more invisible