I need to start thinking more like an engineer and less like a scientist: I need to think about what works, not about why.

The problem was me. I was it.

That's what I believed. I believed I was the everything.

The largeness of my disaster dragged others- frankly, everyone- down with me. I was certain that entire rooms of people became vertiginously joyous when I was high and having fun, and that anyone who got near me when I was morose and coming down would have to feel my pain as potently as I did. Whether I was high or low, the intensity was so great and the world became so small- no larger than the size of me and my mood of the moment- that it was hard to imagine that anything else was going on. It was hard to believe that there were things happening in the world that were not about me.

Autor: Elizabeth Wurtzel