When I first picked up this book, I was 1000% unprepared. I mean truly, wildly unprepared for a book about suicide. Granted, I did not do my usual due diligence and that’s on me.

The way this book is described as “dazzling”, “enchanting”, “a feel good book guaranteed to lift your spirits”… exQueEze me? I don’t know who decided that a book about a woman battling with anxiety, depression, and deep despair resulting in her suicide would be best described as “feel good” but they need therapy. I take such personal offense to these reviews.

I didn’t immediately hate this book. I think I got to about 80% before I realized that the author was just going to have this girl living through different (sometimes more fucked) versions of her life with the apparent intent that at some point she just going to find one and magically be happy or just stay halfway dead living parts of different lives. First of all, that’s not how mental illness works. Second of all, I feel very deeply that the message this sends to people is that “you just need a different perspective and you need to learn to appreciate what you have and then you won’t feel like you need to K-word yourself”. Much disgust.

All in all, I felt like this whole book trivialized mental health issues and I wish I could take back the time I spent reading it. Also, my spirits were not lifting Washington Post so where is my refund (jk this was a library borrow).