to me, coming from you, friend is a four letter word...
Virgina Woolf died when she as 59. She walked into a river with stones in her pockets and drowned. She left this note for her husband:
"I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier 'til this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that - everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer. I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been. V."
That whole statement is so astounding I can't adequately respond to it. I feel like I'm about to cry and I don't know what to do. I'm alone and I can't get a job. All my LJ friends are gone, I think. Either deserted or alienated. I'm alone in this house and it feels like it's miles away from anyone.
"I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier 'til this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that - everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer. I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been. V."
That whole statement is so astounding I can't adequately respond to it. I feel like I'm about to cry and I don't know what to do. I'm alone and I can't get a job. All my LJ friends are gone, I think. Either deserted or alienated. I'm alone in this house and it feels like it's miles away from anyone.