Susanna: Declared healthy and sent back into the world. My final diagnosis: A recovered borderline. What that means, l still don’t know. Was l ever crazy? Maybe. Or maybe life is. Crazy isn’t being broken or swallowing a dark secret. lt’s you or me, amplified. lf you ever told a lie and enjoyed it. lf you ever wished you could be a child forever. They were not perfect but they were my friends. And by the ’70s most of them were out living lives. Some l’ve seen… some, never again. But there isn’t a day my heart doesn’t find them.
Girl, Interrupted, 1999
9:14 pm • 19 November 2010 • 991 notes
Lisa: There are too many buttons in the worId. Too many buttons, and they’re just… There’s way too many, begging to be pressed. They’re just begging to be pressed! And it makes me wonder. It makes me fucking wonder. Why doesn’t anybody ever press mine? Why am I so negIected? Why doesn’t anybody reach in and rip out the truth and teII me that I’m a fucking whore and that my parents wish I were dead?
Susanna: Because you’re dead aIready, Lisa! No one cares if you die, Lisa… because you’re dead aIready. Your heart is coId! That’s why you keep coming back here. You’re not free. You need this pIace. You need it to feeI aIive. It’s pathetic. I’ve wasted a year of my Iife. And maybe everyone out there is a Iiar. And maybe the whoIe worId is stupid and ignorant. But I’d rather be in it. I’d rather be fucking in it… than down here with you.
Girl, Interrupted, 1999
5:45 pm • 19 November 2010 • 642 notes
