“I don’t think my story is special, I don’t think my story is any worse than anyone else’s-or in fact as bad as most people’s stories,” she’s quick to add. I’d be very happy if I have articulated how these things feel-if I have pinpointed things and brought clarity. “And the same is true of madness, the same is true of depression. “I started as a music writer, and the thing about music is it’s really hard to describe how music sounds,” she continues, referring to the career she began at 15 for the Guardian. “It’s trying to name the unnameable,” explains the composed 33-year-old writer, sitting in a Vancouver hotel restaurant and choosing her words as thoughtfully as she does in her prose. What’s most remarkable about the way she articulates these feelings is that she was still working her way through the murk of mental illness when she started her book. The penetration, obviously, the loss of control. Depression is a stagnant lake.” And then there’s bulimia: “the wicked twin of orgasm. As for mania, it “flows like a river approaching a waterfall. “The thought of suicide is masculine energy, with manicured nails, like a mafioso,” she says in the book. The events Emma Forrest reveals in her new memoir, Your Voice in My Head, are messy-from toxic sexual relationships to self-cutting to suicide attempts-but what’s most striking is the crystalline clarity with which she writes about them.
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