Girl, Interrupted

interrupted in the music of being seventeen,

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One of the great pleasures of mental health (whatever that is) is how much less time I have to spend thinking about myself.

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Reklam

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Emptiness and boredom: what an understatement. What I felt was complete desolation. Desolation, despair, and depression.

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My self-image was not unstable. I saw myself, quite correctly, as unfit for the educational and social systems.

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Some people are more frightened than others. “You spent nearly two years in a loony bin! Why in the world were you in there? I can’t believe it!” Translation: If you’re crazy, then I’m crazy, and I’m not, so the whole thing must have been a mistake. “You spent nearly two years in a loony bin? What was wrong with you?” Translation: I need to know the particulars of craziness so I can assure myself that I’m not crazy. “You spent nearly two years in a loony bin? Hmmm. When was that, exactly?” Translation: Are you still contagious?

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Of course I was sad and puzzled. I was eighteen, it was spring, and I was behind bars.

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