Quotes by Emma Forrest

In other words, it was a struggle with himself. And the product of that struggle: anger, bitterness, resentment, envy or transformation, aspiration, hope, decency..the product of that struggle is the quality of your life and the nature of your soul.

When you live with voices in your head, you are drawn inextricably to voices outside your head. Very often the voices work to confirm your worst suspicions. Or think of things you could never have imagined! There are only so many hours of the day to hate yourself.

If killing yourself is not an option anymore, you have to sink into the darkness instead, and make something out of it.

I never lie ― I am a blatantly truthful person about almost everything. My addiction (or disease as some call it) always lies. I have had very good relationships, but the addict in me always fucked them up. I fall in love quickly, its a high that rivals drugs for a while. I am monogamous, but I always cheated with depression before the relationship fell apart. Addicts need best friends, healthy people need healthy relationships.

Its as if he can no longer acknowledge the love he felt or the pain I am in. I have been dismissed. I dont think I was smarter or as beautiful as the other girls he did this to. Its just that I was me. It was all I had.

Im not crazy or dangerous,just a bit eccentric and lonely.

When he kisses me, I cry. I explain its not because I wish he were someone else, its because its such a shock to the system to be desired after feeling so completely abandoned.

What people dont understand when youve already been a suicide and pulled through is that after the sadness comes fear: Where is my mind going with this? I dont want to die. I do not want to die. When you dont have so much control over your own thoughts, over the myriad voices in your head, you dont know where they could go.

The sadness ― the general sadness that squats and pees inside my brain ― isnt over. It never will be. I know how best to chase it away, though. It usually works. Sometimes it doesnt. But I pray and say, fuck it, then. I choose this. It chooses me. I choose it back.

I think Ive lost my faith and I cant stop writingbecause I dont know howmuch longer I can hold on.

The goal was to get sane, to get whole, to be complete enough to support someone else.

He meant everything he said, when he said it. But this is his default. And it won out. Right now youre depressed about one thing. Before you were depressed about everything. These are good times for you.Im afraid of loving again. Im afraid Ive lost my faith.You havent.The trapdoor I have in my mind? That can go to those bad places? Its almost gave way again.You know the ways to keep it nailed shut.

You do it how you can do it, so long as its getting done, youre okay.

Im in love with someone good and kind and gentle, and hes seen the darkness too, but somehow weve become each others light.

But I saw the pain and sadness in everything, and swirled it round my mouth like a fine wine.

It is madness. And if you dont know who you are, or if your real self has drifted away from you with the undertow, madness at least gives you an identity. Its the same with self-loathing. Youre probably just normal and normal-looking but thats not a real identity, not the way ugliness is. Normality, just accepting that youre probably normal-looking, lacks the force field of self-disgust. If you dont know who you are, madness gives you something to believe in.

Theres a boy whose affection I am determined to hunt down and kill. It used to be material objects I felt I needed to be happy. It would make me feel stable if I had him. If I had someone like him, it would prove that Im stable, and then I wouldnt have to do the work to get there. I am constantly looking for ways to cede control of my worries to someone, anyone.

Men and the pursuit of them are strongly intertwined with my mental health. I would say, in my defensive defense, that the problem with being a serial monogamist is, there isnt anybody random or unimportant: everybody you sleep with really means something, which is to say each of them is on your public record. At some point I wake up thinking, Fuck this! I dont want another man in my bed ever again. What I really want is a cat.

In hindsight, I have no idea why he was ever with me. He thought highly of my breasts. And . . . thats it, I think.

Time heals all wounds. And if it doesnt, you name them something other than wounds and agree to let them stay.