So many more cycles of elation of the first kiss, and devastation when it's over.

You don't even have to hate to have a perfectly miserable time.

I start to get the feeling that something is really wrong.

In my case, I was not frightened in the least bit at the thought that I might live because I was certain, quite certain, that I was already dead.

But then I never had to worry about a crash landing because I never even took off.

Years of depression have robbed me of that—well, that give, that elasticity that everyone else calls perspective.

And I want out of this life on drugs.