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Schizophrenics are victims of the Russian word гибель (gibel), which is synonymous with “doom” and “catastrophe”—not necessarily death nor suicide, but a ruinous cessation of existence; we deteriorate in a way that is painful for others.
“Zach was still there. He wasn’t going anywhere. He was going to stick around while she finished uni and traveled and got a job and got married and got old. Just because he chose death didn’t mean Zoe couldn’t choose life. He was still there in her heart and her memory, and he was going to stay beside her, keeping her company right until the end.”
― Nine Perfect Strangers
― Nine Perfect Strangers
“For her, the smell of cigarettes smelled like love. She dated far too many smokers for this reason.”
― Nine Perfect Strangers
― Nine Perfect Strangers
“So why do we insist
He has vanished, that death ran off with our
Everything worth having? Why not that he was
Swimming only through this life--his slow,
Graceful crawl, shoulders rippling,
Legs slicing away at the waves, gliding
Further into what life itself denies?
He is only gone so far as we can tell. Though
When I try, I see the white cloud of his hair
In the distance like an eternity.”
― Life on Mars: Poems
He has vanished, that death ran off with our
Everything worth having? Why not that he was
Swimming only through this life--his slow,
Graceful crawl, shoulders rippling,
Legs slicing away at the waves, gliding
Further into what life itself denies?
He is only gone so far as we can tell. Though
When I try, I see the white cloud of his hair
In the distance like an eternity.”
― Life on Mars: Poems
“I didn't want to wait on my knees
In a room made quiet by waiting.
A room where we'd listen for the rise
Of breath, the burble in his throat.
I didn't want the orchids or the trays
Of food meant to fortify that silence,
Or to pray for him to stay or to go then
Finally toward that ecstatic light.
I didn't want to believe
What we believe in those rooms:
That we are blessed, letting go,
Letting someone, anyone,
Drag open the drapes and heave us
Back into our blinding, bright lives.”
― Life on Mars: Poems
In a room made quiet by waiting.
A room where we'd listen for the rise
Of breath, the burble in his throat.
I didn't want the orchids or the trays
Of food meant to fortify that silence,
Or to pray for him to stay or to go then
Finally toward that ecstatic light.
I didn't want to believe
What we believe in those rooms:
That we are blessed, letting go,
Letting someone, anyone,
Drag open the drapes and heave us
Back into our blinding, bright lives.”
― Life on Mars: Poems
“I'll never be a normal person ever again. You took that away from me. You made me ABNORMAL and it's lonely being abnormal.”
― Nine Perfect Strangers
― Nine Perfect Strangers
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