Best 12 quotes of Gaia B. Amman on MyQuotes

Depression is a physical illness, like bleeding from a wound that won’t close. You cannot fix it, it doesn’t heal.

Everything seemed less frightening with music, even more so with music I knew by heart. It forced a familiar perspective on the scary unknown that was about to happen.

I felt as if I had a secret stomach that could never be filled, always cramping for hunger, even when my regular stomach was about to explode. What am I hungry for?

It was so easy to get excited about someone I didn’t know, so easy to play “crush” from afar, just like with a fictional character. As long as I never talked to Cute Boy, he was going to be perfect, a good reason to wake up tomorrow.

I wanted to disappear, to be the night, the asphalt, the woods; anything but me. I didn’t want to have to break up with him, and I didn’t want to be the target of his massive, uncontrollable anger. But I was me, and I had found with time that there is no cure for that.

Life goes on, whether you like it or not. I just wished it could lurch forward. Time is the best doctor, they say, and that’s bullshit, because from certain pains you can never heal. They keep screaming inside of you till eventually you get used to the noise and can hear again the life outside, but they are always there, aching, clawing at your soul.

Maybe beauty had nothing to do with the garbage TV tried to sell us. It was more a matter of confidence. Either way, I had none.

Sometimes, when you want to help a broken person, your attempts only remind them of their missing pieces.

There is nothing harder than telling your own mother you’re everything she hoped you were not.

There is something so comforting about finding your changed self in a familiar place, as if the background noise vanished leaving you alone to unravel your own turmoil.

The world crashed on me. I smiled like an idiot as I stood up and rushed away hoping he'd forget we had ever spoken. I walked away from the Company and Sonia, but mostly from Giovanni. I had finally met an awesome guy who did not look like a thug and he was four years older than me?

Why did it have to be such a shameful secret? Hadn’t I been potty-trained and taught to chew with my mouth closed? So what was the freaking big deal about having sex? Wasn’t it essential to the survival of our darn, hypocritical species?