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120 pages, Paperback
First published June 10, 2015
“I imagine everyone has their own truth they carry around in the middle-most part of their bodies, maybe wedged in between the second and third rib right beneath the heart. It probably looks something like a rod of plutonium, all silvery gray and shiny. Illusive at times, volatile at others. For when you are not in tune with who you really are, who you were born to be, there’s bound to be some tumult.”
“That’s the thing about depression. It’s wispy, fine, feathery, flyaway, the fizz from a soda pop can. It’s smoke and mist and spider webs that can’t be contained in a single cupped hand or pulled from the sky like a star on a string. It’s a thousand layers of nothing that weigh more than a pile of bricks. It’s a quilt stitched from squares of fog and fuzz and shadow and jet black crow feathers that presses down on me like a lead apron.”