Isabella

“Can I? Can I speak my mind or am I dumb inside a borrowed language, captive of bastard thoughts? What of me is mine?”
― Jeanette Winterson, Art and Lies

“Mental illness turns people inwards. That's what I reckon. It keeps up forever trapped by the pain of our own minds, in the same way that the pain of a broken leg or a cut thumb will grab your attention, holding it so tightly that your good leg or your good thumb seem to cease to exist.”
― Nathan Filer, The Shock of the Fall

“You be as angry as you need to be," she said. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Not your grandma, not your dad, no one. And if you need to break things, then by God, you break them good and hard."

He couldn't look at her. He just couldn't.

"And if, one day," she said, really crying now, "you look back and you feel bad for being so angry, if you feel bad for being so angry at me that you couldn't even speak to me, then you have to know, Conor, you have to know that it was okay. It was okay. That I knew. I know, okay? I know everything you need to tell me without you having to say it out loud. All right?"

He still couldn't look at her. He couldn't raise his head, it felt so heavy. He was bent in two, like he was being torn right down through his middle.

But he nodded.”
― Patrick Ness, A Monster Calls

“Il ricordo di un trauma è sfocato per definizione. L’ago salta sul vinile, le prime tre battute della canzone sono perdute. Puoi solo riempirle a orecchio.
Anche con i metodi più comuni per riportare in superficie le cose più nascoste, come la tecnica EMDR che ha preso il posto dell’ipnosi, non ti consegnano mai il passato sotto forma di immagini in movimento. Il trauma è un livido, una parte del tuo cervello annerita per sempre, e per questo tu non vai a stuzzicarlo con un dito. Qualcosa ti dice: lascia stare.
E se poi tu decidi di provarci? Di non lasciare stare?
Non le rivedi, certe cose.
Non è come guardare una Polaroid. Tu le rivivi.”
― Violetta Bellocchio, Il corpo non dimentica