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“I think back to the years when I barely left my room, when the pills I took each day for anxiety and depression made the light hurt my skin and my hands tremble too hard to hold a pen. How I devoured books, lying in the fetal position in the dark until my hips hurt against the mattress. How much I needed the desolate predictability, the safeties of stillness and solitude. Beyond distraction or entertainment was just the perfect permanence of the written word and the camaraderie embroidered in its silence.” — Sarah Krasnostein
I think back to the years when I barely left my room, when the pills I took each day for anxiety and depression made the light hurt my skin and my hands tremble too hard to hold a pen. How I devoured books, lying in the fetal position in the dark until my hips hurt against the mattress. How much I needed the desolate predictability, the safeties of stillness and solitude. Beyond distraction or entertainment was just the perfect permanence of the written word and the camaraderie embroidered in its silence.