4a.m.

I was up until 4a.m. last night reading. Is it too cliche or overrated to really get into the fact that I've been reading Elizabeth Wurtzel's Prozac Nation? Is it too overplayed to be as self-indulgent to compare something so monumental and historically changing to one's own miniscule and petty life? But the problem in life is that no one can really ever stand to be completely alone- isolated from everyone. Despite everything, everyone consciously or unconsciously searches for a familiarity that will effectively suffice for any felt void. Even as it is fought- out of self-preservation, secretly, deep down, it is the only thing that is ever truly craved.

Everyone yearns to be accepted and loved; it's the natural and instinctive, built in, desire of our species. But with the pure consent of acceptance and love, first comes the necessity for a relevant full understanding and familiarity to know and acknowledge that you aren't the only one.

It definitely is an eye opener and I am gaining a lot more insight. It's comforting and at the same time strange to be absorbing something that hits so damn close to home yet also the accumulated awareness with piecing together extreme differences as well. Because it could always be worse. She had it pretty bad, worse even.

But relatable it definitely is. It's putting a lot of things in perspective for me. I actually can hardly put it down when I pick it up.

It calls into question the extent of a disorder. It's making me feel as if I make big deals out of nothing. It's also making me feel as though I am completely delusional in the things I capriciously let myself fall into and believe. It makes me feel bad for my behavior.

But it also makes me accept all the above as being all completely true, but being all okay because that's just how I'm built. I shouldn't have to make up excuses for who I am or the things I do. I shouldn't be ashamed.