
I saw this post on Instagram from someone I follow and here‘s my comment on this post.
I saw this post on Instagram from someone I follow and here‘s my comment on this post.
“Shall I ever write again one of those sentences that gives me intense pleasure?” (Among her next to last entries before her suicide)
So sad how she considered herself to be a poor writer. She considered writing to be her therapy. She felt she had to do it in order to live. This is a theme in her books especially “To the Lighthouse” which was autobiographical.
Prompt: #DearDiary
#Fallings
#deardiary
#falling
@eggs
@Alwaysbeenaloverofbooks
Rae stole the show at a quiz show I went to a few years ago.
Exhausted just reading this diary of a young NHS OB-GYN doctor: constant stimulus & decision-making, lack of time, lack of sleep, faint praise, strain on personal relationships. Engaging voice with a dose of snark, heartbreaking medical emergencies & spit-take hilarity. 2017
P 86 “really, the only choice is whether you f*ck over yourself or your patients. The former is annoying, the latter means that people die—so it‘s not really a choice at all.”
Lindsay has white frilly knickers on under her tennis skirt. (Not the thong, thank goodness, otherwise Miss Stamp might have had an outburst of lesbian lust and put me off my game.)
For heaven‘s sake, she is so wet-some sniveling, scheming snot takes her fiancé/boyfriend and all she can do is run around in sports knickers, hitting a Ping-Pong ball with some feathers stuck in it.