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 are 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 (via katherineanneausten)

Homesickness is just a state of mind for me. I’m always missing someone or someplace or something, I’m always trying to get back to some imaginary somewhere. My life has been one long longing.

   — Elizabeth Wurtzel (via thechocolatebrigade)
Tags: #Elizabeth Wurtzel #depression
Posted 6 months ago with 72 notes | Reblog

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 (via sing-in-time)

I intend to scream, shout, race the engine, call when I feel like it, throw tantrums in Bloomingdale’s if I feel like it and confess intimate details about my life to complete strangers. I intend to do what I want to do and be whom I want to be and answer only to myself: that is, quite simply, the bitch philosophy.

   — Elizabeth Wurtzel, Bitch: In Praise of Difficult Women (via anotherdeadhead)
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