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Prozac Nation, by Elizabeth Wurtzel – excerpt #1

 

You see, until I really cracked up, at ten or eleven or twelve or whenever it was, you most certainly would have described me as, well, as full of promise. That term is loaded with irony to me now because I know how false that appearance of promise is. I know how much latent discontent and sorrow that visible determination can mask, but still I am sure that at one time there was a ruddiness in my cheeks, a beaming excitedness in my eyes that suggested so much posibility. I was an astronaut who was going to fly so high, so far beyond the moon, so far beyond the whole wide world. But then I never had to worry about a crash landing because I never even took off.