... now I was safe, now I was really crazy, and nobody could take me out of there.

Being crasy doesn't mean to be broken...It is you and me amplified", Girl, Interrupted

An observer can't tell if a person is silent and still because inner life has stalled or because inner life is transfixingly busy.

Are you crazy? It's a common phrase, I know. But it means something particular to me: the tunnels, the security screens, the plastic forks, the shimmering, ever-shifting borderline that like all boundaries beckons and asks to be crossed. I do not want to cross it again.

With wild eyes that had seen freedom.

Actually, it was only part of myself I wanted to kill: the part that wanted to kill herself, that dragged me into the suicide debate and made every window, kitchen implement, and subway station a rehearsal for tragedy.

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