Prozac Nation

I'm so sorry, Mama.
I dream about all the things
I wish I'd said.

The opposite of what
came out of my mouth.

I wish I'd said,
"Mom, please forgive me.

Please help me.
I know I have no right
to behave this way."

- Hello.
- Hey.

- Hi.
- How' my birthday girl?

You're late. You're a day late.
What can I say, you know how it is.
Anyway, I thought I'd have to be
dealing with your secretary by now.

You're such a bigshot journalist,
writing for Rolling Stone.

- Did you read it?
- You know...

...remember this,
they're lucky to have you.

These guys, they're smart.
They're really smart.

They know what they're doing.
They can see talent.

I'm probably gonna get assignments
all over the country...

:45:10 I could maybe come visit you.
Who are you talking to, Lizzie?
- It's no one.
- Who is it?

- It's no one.
- Don't listen to her.

Please, Mom.
Look at you, the two of you.
- Go on, you're so in love with him.
- Mom.

Can you hear that?
Hear why I don't call?

Where was he your childhood?
- Where...?
- Stop it! Just stop it!

I just wanted to talk to him!
You know, Lizzie,
I'm at the end of my rope.

I've been working extra hours.
I never go out.

I never buy clothes.
I spend all our money on your therapy.

All our money? Daddy pays, Mom.
You think he pays?
You think he's paying?