We couldn't imagine the emptiness of a creature who put a razor to her wrists and opened her veins, the emptiness and the calm.
Jeffrey EugenidesRead
On the morning the last Lisbon daughter took her turn at suicide- it was Mary this time, and sleeping pills, like Therese- the two paramedics arrived at the house knowing exactly where the knife drawer was, and the gas oven, and the beam in the basement from which it was possible to tie a rope.
Interpretation
This quote reflects the tragic reality of suicide and the familiarity of first responders with such crises.
The quote presents a somber depiction of mental health struggles, illustrated through the routine arrival of paramedics to a home where multiple suicide attempts have occurred. It highlights the profound sadness and horror of suicide, symbolizing a cycle of despair that leaves deep emotional scars on families and communities, while also emphasizing the alarming normalization of such tragedies in certain lives.
In practice
In a discussion about mental health awareness during a community event.
We couldn't imagine the emptiness of a creature who put a razor to her wrists and opened her veins, the emptiness and the calm.
It was the combination of many factors... With most people, suicide is like Russian roulette. Only one chamber has a bullet. With the Lisbon girls, the gun was loaded. A bullet for family abuse. A bullet for genetic predisposition. A bullet for historical malaise. A bullet for inevitable momentum. The other two bullets are impossible to name, but that doesn't mean the chambers were empty.
Depression is like a bruise that never goes away. A bruise in your mind. You just got to be careful not to touch it where it hurts. It's always there, though.
She lost much of her appetite. At night, an invisible hand kept shaking her awake every few hours. Grief was physiological, a disturbance of the blood. Sometimes a whole minute would pass in nameless dread - the bedside clock ticking, the blue moonlight coating the window like glue - before she`d remember the brutal fact that had caused it.
It was one of those humid days when the atmosphere gets confused. Sitting on the porch, you could feel it: the air wishing it was water.
Jerome was sliding and climbing on top of me and it felt like it had the night before, like a crushing weight. So do boys and men announce their intentions. They cover you like a sarcophagus lid. And call it love.
Life is unjust and this is what makes it so beautiful. Every day is a gift. Be brave and take hold of it.
My dad taught me to never be pigeonholed; to really allow yourself to reinvent characters as they reinvent you; to be bold and to be willing to play seemingly unlikeable people.
The measure of a life, after all, is not its duration, but its donation.
The first thing I do in any town I come to is ask if it has a bookstore.
This was their first encounter with the fact that a full stomach meant good spirits; an empty one, bickering and gloom.
That familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
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