Dana Schwartz Quotes

It's the catch-22 of mental illness: How can your brain not be working right if you're as goddamn self-aware as you are?

Despite pledging to play it cool, your flirting instincts are coming out like an X-Men power you haven't learned to control. You are the Rogue of flirting. If a guy over six feet tall gets within touching distance of you, your body involuntarily begins to flirt. The government wants to put you on a registry.

Just leave! you wanted to shout through the screen. Why are you serving him food?? They're just going about their normal routines as if they don't realize they're now goddamn pieces of wood and metal. It makes no sense. Anyway. That's what being depressed is like. For some reason, you've transformed into this inanimate object version of yourself and everyone else seems to be functioning perfectly normally, keeping jobs and falling in love and passing tests and they expect you to do the same. "But I'm a coffee table now!" you want to shout. "There's no way that I, a coffee table, can get out of bed to study for a bio exam. That's not a thing coffee tables are capable of doing!

The next morning, the entire thing feels like a dream. You never see Bill again, never get his number, never find him on Facebook. In fact, like the end of a lazy ghost story, you never find any evidence of his existence at all.

It's still a fairy-tale city...."These are the streets that inspired J. K. Rowling to write Harry Potter," tour guides boast as you scan the cobblestone and crooked storefronts, eyes wide with wonder.
Harry Potter lore is treated like a relic of Jesus himself.

You don't cry anymore, but you don't feel like yourself anymore either. So start again. Start from infancy, get better, and rebuild an identity for yourself.

WHICH FAKE ROM-COM LADY CAREER SHOULD YOU PURSUE?

...Think Bond girl - you're incredibly smart in the one specific area that just so happens to help the protagonist in this one very specific instant of the plot. "Give me that," you'll say, snatching the hieroglyph from the hero's hand. "I have two PhDs in cryptozoological translation." You'll shove the hero aside from the beeping machine. "I'm NASA's top-ranking expert in nuclear disarmament techniques." Does it make sense? No, but who cares? You are very, very pretty. And smart, definitely smart because even though you look like a supermodel and wear very sexy clothing and a full face of makeup, you are also wearing glasses. Sure, twenty-four looks a little young to have three PhDs but they're pretty sure making you smart in whatever will move the plot forward means this movie is feminist. You will either end up running away with the hero, or you will die. Apologies.

Tinder fills our need for attention, to be seen by someone, to be wanted, and to not quite know what will happen next. It's a slot machine pass that you always win: Put in a bit of time and a few swipes, crank the lever, and out comes a parade of choices of people who might call you pretty and say they want to buy you a drink.

In that moment, I understood Ophelia more than I had in half a semester of my English teacher's lectures. Whether the boy you love is mad or pretending to be mad, wanting someone you can't understand or who won't let you understand will make you go mad yourself. Waiting for his affection was a version of Chinese water torture, desperately waiting for the next drop of any sign that he might like me, unsure when it would come, if it came at all.