There was a person in me – a piece of me – however you want to describe it – so damaged that she was prepared to see me dead to find peace.

That part of me, living alone, hidden, in a filthy abandoned lair, had always been able to stage a raid on the rest of my territory. My violent rages, my destructive behaviour, my own need to destroy love and trust, just as love and trust had been destroyed for me.

From “Why be happy when you could be normal?” by Jeanette Winterson