9
" I said I was sorry, Dani..." Kevin said, as they entered the apartment." I'm so not talking to you." " I couldn't help it! She was so funny, and you were blushing, and... gawd, Dani, I couldn't help it!" " You just had to get us all soft pretzels, didn't you... just had to make sure we'd walk right by that lingerie store..." " Dani... it, uh, it hadn't even occurred to me-" " I hate you! When I go to therapy about this, I'm going to send you the bill!" " You're beautiful when your angry." " Then I must be fucking gorgeous right now!" " You are." " ... Well, I'm still not talking to you. "
10
" I’m not your boyfriend!” I snapped, trying to gently move her hands away from my body.
“How can you say that?” Sara asked in horror.
“It’s shockingly effortless,” I replied. “My vocal chords vibrate, and my mouth and tongue articulate. I can even do it without thinking.” I had to remind myself to stay calm, and sarcasm was the best way to do that.
“When are you going to give me a key to your house so I don’t have to knock like some guest?” Sara asked, coming at me again.
I backed away. “How about never? Is never good for you?”
Sara, undeterred, said, “You’re the reason I go to therapy on Fridays.”
“The plot thickens!” Gabby exclaimed for comedic relief. "
― Laura Kreitzer , Keepers (Timeless, #3.5)
12
" Before drifting away entirely, he found himself reflecting---not for the first time---on the peculiarity of adults. Thet took laxatives, liquor, or sleeping pills to drive away their terrors so that sleep would come, and their terrors were so tame and domestic: the job, the money, what the teacher will think if I can't get Jennie nicer clothes, does my wife still love me, who are my friends. They were pallid compared to the fears every child lies cheek and jowl with in his dark bed, with no one to confess to in hope of perfect understanding but another child. There is no group therapy or psychiatry or community social services for the child who must cope with the thing under the bed or in the cellar every night, the thing which leers and capers and threatens just beyond the point where vision will reach. The same lonely battle must be fought night after night and the only cure is the eventual ossification of the imaginary faculties, and this is called adulthood. "
― Stephen King , 'Salem's Lot
16
" Everyone is in pain. Most people think pain in massage means something is happening, and if they can endure it, they will be improved, but sometimes the only thing pain means is pain.
It a very easy mistake to make, though.. She’d refused for the longest time to get therapy or take any psychoactive drugs because she’d felt that the “darkness” was necessary, not just for her as an actor, but as a human being.
You didn’t have to feel slightly terrible all the time, as it turns out. Her only worry now was that slightly terrible was not a flaw in her chemistry, but an appropriate response to being the kind of person that she was. “You’re very hard on yourself,” Luke said.
“Can you imagine the kind of person that I’d be if I wasn’t hard on myself?” she said back. Luke should be sympathetic. He was hoping to improve the human race, and it would be hard to get there if the human race thought it was already fantastic, thanks very much.
Well, she could still go dark, if she needed to, she could go dark right now. Yesterday she had done Terror. She’d done Fear and Dejection and Remorse. And because she had done Remorse as fully as a person could do it, she knew that she hadn’t ever experienced that kind of pure Remorse before. What she’d felt in the past was polluted Remorse, because half the time she was sorry she was also privately resentful and building a case about why the actions that had led to Remorse could be justified. "
― Meg Howrey , The Wanderers
20
" I dial her mum's number, then sit down cross-legged, facing the wall. When she comes on the line, she sounds uncertain, hesitant.
'Hey! Guess where I am?' I ask, my voice loud with false cheer.
'Rami told me. The Wellesly Hospital in Worthing. What's it like?'
'For a loony-bin it's actually quite decent,' I reply. 'I don't have Sky or an en-suite, and the menu isn't exactly à la carte, but you know...' I tail off.
There is a silence.
'Do you have your own room?' Jenna asks,
'Oh yeah, yeah. I have a lovely view of the sea between the bars of my window.'
She doesn't laugh.
'Have you started' -there is a pause as she searches for the right word -'threatment?'
'Yeah, yeah. We had group therapy today. Tomorrow we'll probably have art therapy - maybe I'll draw you a hourse and a garden. I know, perhaps they'll teach us to make baskets! Isn't that why they call us basket cases?'
'Flynn, stop,' Jennah softly implores.
'And we'll probably have music therapy the day after. Maybe I'll get to play the tambourine. Or the triangle. I've always wanted to play the triangle!'
'Flynn-'
'No, I'm serious! I'll ask for some manuscript paper and see if I can write a composition for tambourine and triangle. Then I can post if off to you to hand in for my next composition assignment.'
'Flynn, listen-'
'Hold on, hold on! I'm making a note to myself now: Find fellow insane musician and start composing the Flynn Laukonen Sonata for Tambourine and Triangle.'
'Flynn-'
'And then, when they let me out, if they ever let me out, perhaps you could pull a few strigns and organize for me and my tambourine buddy to give a recital. I'm not sure where though -how about the subway at Marble Arch tube? Nice and central, good acoustics-'
'What are the other people like?' Jennah cuts in, an edge to her voice. I notice she doesn't use the word patients. Clever Jennah. For a moment there you almost made me forget I was locked up in a mental institution.
'Round the bend, just like me,' I reply. 'I'm in excellent company. We'll be swapping suicide tips in no time at all!' I give a harsh laugh. "
― Tabitha Suzuma , A Voice in the Distance (Flynn Laukonen, #2)