Girl, Interrupted Page #3

So Daddy buys you a private|and no one gets in.

You never leave except for when Valerie|makes you go to the cafeteria...

where you never eat.

You're a laxative junkie, so...

I always thought you were likeJanet|but here you are with this chicken.

So what's with that, huh?

My dad owns a deli, a**hole,|with a rotisserie.

I like my dad's chicken, and|when I eat something else, I puke.

But why do you eat it here? Why|don't you like to go to the cafeteria?

Which do you like better?

Taking a dump alone|or with Valerie watching?

Alone.

Everyone likes to be alone|when it comes out.

I like to be alone|when it goes in.

To me, the cafeteria is like being|with 20 girls all at once taking a dump.

That is f***ed up, Daisy.

Come on.

All right, a**holes!

Fine. Here.

Lisa, don't! No, please!

"Dios" f***ing "mio. "

I guess that's how|Daddy knows she's eating.

When I get five,|Valerie makes me throw them away.

Scribble, scribble, scribble.

- Written anything about me yet?|- Don't do that!

Is Daisy really getting out?

Yeah.

She coughed up a big one.

How can... I mean, she's insane.

That's what "ther-rape-me"|is all about.

That's why f***ing Freud's picture|is on every shrink's wall.

He created an industry. You lie down,|you confess your secrets, you're saved.

The more you confess, the more|they think about setting you free.

But what if you don't|have a secret?

Then you're a lifer,|like me.

I was changing her diaper...

and I turned to get the powder...

and while my back was turned,|she rolled off the bed.

She rolled off the bed|and broke her leg.

The doctor put her in a body cast,|but he also strapped her down.

- This has nothing to do...|- You never told me this.

Carl had been planning|this trip to Santa Monica...

but he had a commitment with RAND,|so we took her with us.

On the back seat, strapped|to this board, 4,000 miles.

If you like, Mrs. Kaysen,|we can discuss this further...

on the way out...

Just how long is my daughter|going to be here?

With all due respect, Mr. Kaysen...

psychiatry and economics|are different.

The length of Susanna's stay|isn't fixed.

It depends on her response|to treatment.

For what? Depression?|It's almost Christmas.

What are we supposed to say to|the people back home who care about her?

You see, Melvin,|what's going on here"... "

is my parents are having a little|holiday cocktail Christmas party crisis.

- Susanna.|- What?

What is this borderline business|you mentioned on the phone?

Look...

I don't think that's useful|to Susanna.

- I mean, not...|- What "borderline business"?

- You see, the mind...|- Borderline what?

Borderline between what and what?

It's a condition...

and it's called|Borderline Personality Disorder.

Oh, God.

It's not uncommon,|especially among young women.

What causes it?

We're really not sure.

- Is it genetic?|- Oh, Christ!

It is five times more common...

among those with a borderline...

parent.

I can't do this.

I'm sorry. I can't...|I can't do this.

" Razors pain you,|rivers are damp...

acid stains you,|drugs cause cramp...

guns aren't lawful,|nooses give...

gas smells awful,|you might as well live."

Gin.

- A**hole.|- Fatso.

John. Call me a cab.

Okay, you're a cab.

Lisa said you got into Daisy's room...

and it was full of chickens.

Susanna, you have a phone call.

"So what's your "diag"-"nonsense"? "

- Who is this?|- "What'd he say to Mom and Pop? "

I have a borderline personality.

- That's nothing. What else?|- "He didn't want to say. "

He thought it would|affect my recovery.

Listen, tongue your meds tonight.

After 1:
00 checks, Gretta|always goes out for a smoke.

Check the mirrors, and if they're clear,|you go down to Hector's closet.

and it will be open.

Torch!

Come on.

This is how Lisa gets out|when she escapes.

We're under administration so,|no good here.

Good thing this place works|on a sliding scale.

We get to mingle|with the lock-picking trash.

Susanna, you're up.

I've only done this|once in my life.

All right!

When they built this place,|they put the tunnels in...

so the loons didn't have to|go anywhere in the cold.

I must have missed that|in the brochure.

Hey, open this door.

What the f*** are you doing?

Wow. Dr. Wick's office.

All right. Georgina Tuskin.

Susanna Kaysen.

Polly Clark.

Cynthia Crowley.

- Congratulations.|- Thank you.

Janet Webber.

Lisa Rowe.

F*** you, Melvin.

Want to see mine?

Let me see yours.

" Highs and lows increasingly severe.

Controlling relationships|with patients.

No appreciable response to meds.

No remission observed."

That was before you ran away.

We are very rare,|and we are mostly men.

Lisa thinks she's hot sh*t|because she's a sociopath.

- I'm a sociopath.|- No, you're a dyke.

" Borderline Personality Disorder.

An instability of self-image,|relationships and mood.

Uncertainty about goals...

impulsive in activities|that are self-damaging...

such as casual sex."

- I like that.|- "Social contrariness...

and a generally pessimistic attitude|are often observed."

- That's me.|- That's everybody.

I mean, what kind of sex|isn't casual?

They mean promiscuous.

I'm not promiscuous.

I'm not.

Jesus.

Look atJanet.

No, it's all right.

You know, taking us|for ice creams in a blizzard...

makes you wonder|who the real whack jobs are.

I think it's kind of nice.

I think it's nice to do something|nice on Daisy's last day.

F***.

- I'm going to have peppermint stick.|- Me too. Can I have peppermint stick?

- Sure.|- No, it's just called a peppermint.

- Peppermint dick!|- Honestly.

Peppermint clit!

- We're just gonna have four cones.|- Four cones.

- Susanna, do you want anything?|- I'm fine.

- Ronny.|- Yes?

- You got any hot fudge?|- Yes.

Yeah? Can I have a vanilla sundae|with hot fudge...

and sprinkles?

Rainbow, not chocolate.

And...

whipped cream...

cherries...

and...

Nuts?

Let's have a seat, ladies.

Melvin thought that I should|live in a halfway house.

But my father knew|that I deserved my own apartment.

So he got me|the prettiest apartment.

It has an eat-in chicken...

and all this beautiful|wicker furniture and...

Which is fantastic.|Wicker butterflies.

My very favorite part...

is like in the phone book.

There's a sign|right outside that says:

"If you lived here|you'd be home now."

Do you remember me?|You must remember me.

- Yes. Mrs. Gilcrest, hi.|- Susanna, are you okay?

I'm fine.

- Hey, Bonnie. How's Radcliffe?|- Wellesley. I'm enjoying it.

It's strong in art. I'm going|to the Sorbonne this summer.

- That's great.|- You know, I know all about you.

And I hope|they put you away forever.

- Is this the professor's wife?|- What professor?

You told everybody.

- Lady, back off.|- Was I talking to you?

No, you were spitting on me,|so mellow f***ing out.

- Don't you tell me what to do.|- She gave your husband a rim job.

Big f***ing deal!

I'm sure he was begging for it, and|I heard it was like a pencil anyway.

How dare you?

Some advice, okay? Don't point your|f***ing finger at crazy people!

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