image credit: *inspire*dream*create (flickr)"...Isolation and a sense that all human connection was elusive, was the province of others, of the happy people on the other side of the glass wall, was the worst part of my depression. I used to think: I want in on whatever deal it is that these other fucked-up chicks have got! And then Rafe came along, and he tried to love me, I really believe he did, but there was no amount of love that would have stitched my wounded psyche at that point...I discovered, through the love Rafe gave me, that affection as medicine is highly overrated, that a person who is as sick with depression as I most certainly was cannot possibly be rescued through the power of anyone's love. It is just so much worse than that. I mean, if you were to find a shattered mirror, find all the pieces, all the shards and all the tiny chips, and have whatever skill and patience it took to put all that broken glass back together so that it was complete once again, the restored mirror would still be spiderwebbed with cracks, it would still be a useless glued version of its former self, which could show only fragmented reflections of anyone looking into it. Some things are beyond repair." (Wurtzel, 214-215)
Wurtzel, Elizabeth. 1994. Prozac Nation: Young and Depressed in America. New York: Houghton Mifflin Company.
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