"He looks at how, when things in nature become too self-sufficient, or get too close to their source, they become self-destructive, almost as if they’re in a feedback loop. He applies this to his own heart, exploring the idea that if he continues on a path of self-preservation with “armour so complete” then the only way to experience heartbreak is to achieve the impossible and do it to himself. He says, “I think it has to do with the struggle between being so self-sufficient, being so contained, which we are all taught is a virtuous thing to achieve, and then being like, ‘Wait, what else is there?’ There’s the issue of autonomy being overrated, and needing community, needing to make yourself more vulnerable."

"Certainly the most destructive vice, if you like, that a person can have, more than pride which is supposedly the number one of the cardinal sins, is self-pity. I think self-pity is the worst possible emotion anyone can have, and the most destructive. It is to slightly paraphrase what Wilde said about hatred, I think actually hatred is a subset of self-pity not the other way around, it destroys everything around it except itself. Self-pity will destroy relationships, it will destroy anything that’s good, it will fulfil all of the prophecies it makes and leave only itself. It’s so simple to imagine that one is hard done by, and that things are unfair, and that one is under appreciated, and that if only one had had a chance at this or that, things would have gone better, you would be happier if only this, that one is unlucky… All those things, and some of them may well even be true, but to pity oneself as a result of them is to do oneself is an enormous disservice."

"It is by going down into the abyss that we recover the treasures of life. Where you stumble, there lies your treasure."

chapter one: in which bethan tries to describe some feelings

I’m normally quite articulate when it comes to this: the physical cues to my emotions and the thoughts that come with them are very clearcut. the idea that I am sad or angry and just need a hug or to sit down by myself for a bit is normally as clear to me as the feeling of, “goodness my feet are cold, I need to put some socks on” is to anybody who has legs and has been walking around on a cold tile floor in winter.

but my, “feelings” now are not like this at all. they are nearly nonexistent, dulled and sickeningly numb. at least my linguistic skills are still here: I can crack out the similies and analogies like some kind of mad crazy professor of symbolism (see there is a cracking one, just for you)

I can sort of see what the world could be like: how things could feel and smell and be to me. but trying to tap into these things is like trying to recall some long lost memory that you might have actually dreamed about, or that might be somebody else’s

it’s like hearing beautiful music turned down very low in a locked room next door. it’s there, but I can’t really discern the words and trying to focus on it is just very very frustrating

it is like being a hologram in a world full of really truly real things. 

it is a muddled, broken perception of the world: maybe I should call it wearing crapgoggles. crapgoggles are the opposite of rose tinted spectacles, wherein they turn everything beautiful into shit when I look at it

and to a person who can normally taste clouds and feel the shape of things that is absolutely heartbreaking (disappointingly, it’s not even the kind of heartbreak where I want to scream and throw things around the room. it’s a muffled sadness)

in addition to crapgoggles, I also have a crapfilter on my brain where everything nice has to be countered by a nasty, self defeating or self censoring thought (like, “yeah but, you don’t even enjoy anyone’s company do you? they’re all rubbish. or maybe, actually, you’re rubbish and your friends are farfarfar too good for you”)

jesus, it is tiring! and it makes me angry (once again, in a shitty, dulled, “fuuuuuck I’m far too tired to be actually angry”) because I feel a bit like a walking corpse, with very few desires or opinions or senses about anything. a slow cruel undeath that hasn’t killed me but has made actually living very difficult indeed

it makes me want to puke. I puke on you, shitty terrible nothing feeling sapping all the energy from my veins. I puke on you furiously, angrily, until I’m exhausted but triumphant, lying on the floor smelling all disgusting and sicky

fuck you. I will keep on even though sometimes it feels like it’s not worth it at all, even though you will tell me horrible awful things about myself and other people. even though you will make me imagine horrible awful things, even though you will try and push me away from people I love. even though you will try and tell me that life is not really worth it anymore

I know it’s just the crapfilter talking! fuck you! I still need to finish Lord of the Rings!!

littlemure asked: I will post you a Millie so you can be glared at and have grumpy chubby cat hugs and feel better about the world because no matter what happens, you will never be as grumpy as Millie.

ohmygoodness yes! grumpy chubby cat hugs are my favourite thing ever (much much much better than grubby chumpy hat chugs!)