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@insaneisms-blog
“ look at my eyes —– ya’ think i’ve slept ?? join the club. they really make you do therapy for six hours ?? fuck that, they best not pull that shit on me. ”
“Apparently I had an ‘outburst’ and needed monitors or some stupid shit. So long as you don’t stab your doctor with a shiv, I think you’ll be fine.”
“Hopefully I’m lucky enough to someday be happy ”
“Yeah, god knows I wasn’t.”
“ woah there, hold your horses cowboy. —– shouldn’t be sayin’ PLEASE ? totally rude if ya’ ask me. ”
“I have been in therapy for the last six hours and I haven’t slept in twenty four hours. I’m not in the fucking mood to be courteous.”
“It’s fine, I understand. I was stuck in therapy yesterday, they’re still trying to get stuff out of me.Think they can spout some friendly bullshit to me and try to get me to talk about my past.”She murmured, her arms tightening around herself.
They’d long since ceased to be so kind towards him. “They don’t even really care anymore, not about me. They know they’re not getting anywhere.” And they never would. “Six hours... Pointless.”
“I mean, sure whatever, if that’s what you want.” Daisy spoke, her voice void of emotion. She didn’t want to be alone, her head was so loud when she was alone. She shrugged slightly, thin arms wrapping around her lithe form.
“It’s just...” He swallowed, eyes closing for but a moment. It may not be written on her face, but he can feel his disappointment. “I’ve been in therapy for the last several hours and I can’t deal with people.”
“Maybe?”
“Life is rough, sometimes you’ve just got to be lucky.”
“Well, life is often disappointing but that doesn’t mean you should give up hope that someday you’ll be happy.”
“Yeah, well, I hope it works, maybe for you.”
“The world needs a little optimism.”
“It usually leads to disappointment.”
“Do you think life would be better if we could just go back in time and change every screwed up thing that happened to us?”
“No, there’d just be something else. Life sucks no matter which way you spin it. Even the people who seem happy are just good at hiding their own misery.... But that was awfully optimistic of you.”
“I’ll figure it out,” She said proudly, “I’ve had a long time to figure it out.”
“Trust me,” He murmured. “for most people I know, they still haven’t.”
“Well, sometimes I wish I still was,” Violetta told him.
“Don’t worry about it... You’ll get used to it, eventually. It just takes some time.”
Course he would giggle at her suggestions. Even she found the last part a bit amusing, but she had to try. “What is your thing?” Sylvia tapped her pointer finger on the tip of her chin. “Aside from violence.”
“I don’t have a thing.” He shook his head lightly. It was true though, what did he feel any form of joy from ?? Nothing, even when he was violent, it brought him no glee, he simply didn’t want to be touched, or talked to, he was better off alone. “I just do what I have to.”
“I’m very well acquainted with my hand.” That would be true if she still had a god damn body.
A smirk appears upon his cheek, a single brow quirking upwards. “Aren’t we all ??”
Doctor Price’s head lightly cocked to the side as she followed the young patients remark. “There’s other forms of communication.” Her mind danced with pliable self expression. “Perhaps through writing, painting. Dance if you have the strength for it.”
Admittedly the last part bright a chuckle to his lips, “I don’t think so.” It wasn’t as though he wished for more medication, it made his head foggy && his functions slow. “Not my thing, really.”
“I’m seeing a lot of aggression lately within these walls.” Though, really, it wasn’t entirely surprising. Most patients were aggressive to some degree. Some, more than others. “I think we could do with more communication, and less medication.”
Most of that aggression came from him, he wondered if they’d kept count of the amount of times he’d stabbed someone with a sharpened eating utensil. “I don’t like to talk much.”
*rolls in* YO ok hi I’m fawn Im the harley quinn admin on the main. basically if you have any questions or anything feel free to come my way or if you wanna plot, ask about my charas, like st8 up anything.
‘ quite beautiful, isn’t it ? ’ eyes stopped at the visage in front of her. a painting, that if anything it was quite… controversial, so to speak. yet, she was an art lover herself. and that one … oh, that one was special. made entirely with blood. perhaps, dare she say - one of the most beautiful things she’d ever set her gaze on. ‘ a shame the painter had to die in such an…unfortunate way, don’t you think ? ’ of course. she killed him. she made him paint it with his very own blood.
“You could say that...” He’d never been much of a conisyuour but Ithuriel often mused on the renaissance paintings && oh how one day he might take him to Italy to stand under the gilded, golden ceilings of sistine chapel && it’s likes, however it’d never happened. “Whatever you say.”
