Touched With Fire Page #3

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Maybe you went a little far.

How did I go...

That's why I'm apologizing.

Okay, we're just trying to keep it simple.

- That's why I'm apologizing.

- Yeah, just a simple apology.

- You'll never graduate this way, Luna.

- What are you talking about?

Yeah.

- What is that?

- Those are the marks.

There's still some more to learn,

I guess, isn't there?

His thoughts are fine.

Let's just imagine ourselves,

for a minute...

I think it's okay to...

- Everybody here knows how to share.

- Could you please just stop?

You have an opinion

on what's being said here?

It's your first day here,

and you're alienating yourself

from the entire group.

Are you saying

that I should hide what I think

in order to become part of a group?

No.

Why are you looking at the group?

- I'm not!

- Yeah, you are.

Why are you lying?

- I'm not lying!

- Why are you lying?

- I'm not lying.

- Why are you lying?

And it seems

we've reached an impasse.

And we'll just take a couple of minutes

to cool down, three minutes,

and we'll come back to the circle.

Okay?

It's all right.

No touching, please.

- Luna, why don't you color?

- Because I'm uninspired.

Okay, why don't you take a look

at the books on the shelf.

Maybe they'll give you

some inspiration.

Here we go.

Van Gogh.

Top member of the Bipolar Club.

You see this?

- Yes, it's beautiful.

- Yeah, that's right.

- You know why?

- Why?

Because it's the painting

of the sky he saw

from his sanitarium window

while he was manic.

- Really?

- Yeah.

You don't believe me?

Go look it up.

I believe you.

Well, when you go out tonight,

and you look at the sky

and you see how dull it is,

think about if you

would've medicated Van Gogh.

Luna.

What kind of poetry do you do?

Rap.

- You rap?

- Yeah.

When I first went manic,

I just started rhyming compulsively,

but, you know,

that's a textbook manic symptom.

- Really?

- Yeah.

You don't believe me?

Go look it up.

Can you show us some?

Give me a word.

Anti-Christ.

I fancy the delight...

of what it might be like

to be thought of as the Anti-Christ.

Anti-body to humanity.

Because, God damn it,

if you handed me the planet,

I'd give it such an apocalyptic rinse

- that would rid it of these lice.

- How about shameless?

I'm so shameless,

I have no chains of shame to restrain

what I do or say or think,

afraid that people

might be ashamed of it.

Alone.

I may be alone,

but at least I don't feel alone

with the closest people I know

because I changed myself

into something fake

to gain the group's praise

till I don't even know my own soul,

which, if you ask me,

is the loneliest state of being alone.

Is that it?

No more words?

I see, you'd rather read that?

What is that, real poetry?

Let's see.

- Hey. Hey.

- Luna.

"The sun shined as bright

as its flame could blaze..."

- I'm getting the doctor!

- Okay! Okay!

Oh! Oh-oh!

- "Trying so hard each day to reach down..."

- Would you stop it!

- "And touch each face."

- Stop it!

"But they all turned away,

bitterly squinting, wincing,"

so no matter how much it reached out

to the human race,

"it knew it would always be estranged."

We are all bipolar.

Sometimes it's like a molar.

You wanna take it out,

you want to be better.

So, don't sweat the weather.

Check out the solar power.

It's the rhyming hour.

The first card is the symbol cradle.

Don't worry, it's the symbol of life,

nothing fatal.

I'm gonna strap you down and stick

one of these nurses' syringes into you.

That doesn't rhyme.

Don't even stop to think about it.

Just let it all go. You be the vessel.

Okay, that's where

the best stuff just happens.

Just let it in and spit it out.

But good, though.

- You graduated, Luna.

- What?

You're one level higher. Yeah.

- Couldn't sleep?

- No.

- Want something to help?

- No, I'm just gonna go to the art room.

Can't sleep?

No.

So Emily,

can I ask you

what your full fake name is?

Emily Lowell.

Is that Emily Dickinson

and Robert Lowell?

Those are good poets.

Do you know they were both bipolar?

You think every great artist was bipolar.

It's fine if it helps you.

"We of the craft are all crazy..."

"Some are affected by gaiety,

others with melancholy."

"But all are more or less touched."

You know who said that?

Lord Byron.

One of the greatest

manic-depressive poets of all time.

It's in the opening to this book,

Touched with Fire by Kay Jamison.

She's a psychologist,

and when she was first starting out,

she, out of nowhere,

had this manic episode.

It scared her.

So she tried to keep it a secret.

But then... something changed.

She decided to write books about it.

She did all this research, and she found

all these crazy connections

between bipolar and artistic genius

all through history,

all over the world.

Instead of being ashamed of it...

she made it a gift.

You know, when people go

to see The Nutcracker...

and they look over at their kids

and they see their eyes light up

when the world

turns to magic at night...

they'll know that the music

that Tchaikovsky composed

was enriched by his bipolar,

and not think of it as just a disease.

When I look at the river, I mean,

that's a symbol for two things

coming together.

That could be the end of a journey,

or two people.

Anything else?

Well, I mean, you can have more

if you want more.

There's a house.

Yeah, Luna,

I just told Emily's fortune.

Huh?

- Come on, I want to hear yours.

- Put 'em together.

- Take a seat.

- What?

She wants to read your cards.

She got a moon.

You got a moon?

That's interesting.

She got two rivers meeting.

Why is it interesting?

You know that we're made up

of mostly water?

And the moon pulls water.

Well, that's just the sun that does that.

I just reflect it.

But when the sun's down,

we see the moon.

That's the light.

That's true, but that's just

the light from the sun

hitting the moon, shining back.

Couldn't sleep again?

No.

Well, that's weird.

It's the same time as last night.

Must be something to do with the moon.

Why did you name yourself Luna?

Because the lunatic looks

to the moon as if asking it

how he got stuck down here.

Where are you from?

Yeah, I know you're from the moon,

but what about your parents?

My father's from here.

My mother's from where I'm from.

She used to wake me

in the middle of the night

and take me out to look at the stars.

Imagine jumping

from star to star to star.

And your dad?

He falls with most dads.

They don't like to see their girls...

struggle.

So...

I don't see him much.

I guess...

I guess I make him sad.

We're not from here, you and me.

Feels like that.

How'd you get stuck here?

It's embarrassing.

- Tell you, if you tell me.

- Okay, you tell me first.

Okay.

You forced your eyes opened,

and stared into the sun.

Is that what triggered it?

You know what?

We're both really exhausted.

I know I am.

There's no way that we're going

to get through all this tonight.

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