• I wonder if any of them can tell from just looking at me that all I am is the sum total of my pain, a raw woundedness so extreme that it might be terminal. It might be terminal velocity, the speed of the sound of a girl falling down to a place from where she can't be retrieved. What if I am stuck down here for good?

    Elizabeth Wurtzel (2014). “Prozac Nation: Young and Depressed in America”, p.214, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt