Late at night he’ll come to me and he’ll tell me I’m alone
Don’t you think I don’t already know?
All I see is road
No one takes me home
Where, where can I go?
Truth about desire they say
Is a need to breathe for another day
Truth I heard about regret
It’s the hardest truth I’ve come to yet
You’re so incredible,
why can’t I touch you?
Hold back decayed love and light. Words of promise weigh down on us,
settle in our bones.
Once the dawn falls down upon us,
I will let you go.
If the stars can align all of man with night sky, then why can’t my heart mend the break?
But I’ll love you the same cause it’s only a dream, and the dreamer is bound to awake.
"I didn’t want to go home because I was scared to be alone, I didn’t want to stay in the theater because I was afraid of the dark, I didn’t want to be with my mother because I was scared of her. So I went to an old friend’s house, and as soon as I got there I realized that I couldn’t bear to be with people, that I really wanted to be alone. As soon as I was out in the street, I realized I didn’t want to be alone after all, realized I didn’t want to be anything at all."
- Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation
"What’s changed for females is the illusion that they have control and they don’t. […] They know that they can go into chemical engineering or medical school and they’ve got their whole life planned, they’re on a roll. They transfer that feeling of control into social situations and that’s the illusion."
- Robin Warshaw, I Never Called It Rape
"It’s the stupid stuff. It’s the maintenance of life, the little things, what to cook for dinner, should I order Chinese or Italian, why haven’t I picked up my laundry after six days and can I wear the socks with the holes in them or should I just hand-wash the dirty ones? It’s returning the call to my grandmother, which I’m never going to have five minutes to do because the guilt takes everything out of me. It’s the books that not on the shelves in alphabetical order so I can never find my copy of Villette or Valley of the Dolls or whatever I’m looking for, it’s the photographs that need frames, it’s the posters that aren’t on the walls because I never seem to have a hammer and a nail in the same place at the same time. It’s being a grown-up, which I never figured out how to do, and scrubbing the tub, and remembering to eat and shampoo my hair. It’s the basics: I can write a whole book, but I cannot handle the basics."
- Elizabeth Wurtzel, More, Now, Again
'It will not let me sleep, I'll get some sleep when I'm dead
And sometimes death seems better than the migraine in my head
Am I the only one I know
Waging my wars behind my face and above my throat
Shadows will scream that I’m alone’