[PurestOpium]

I imagine going to the supermarket and buying a bottle of milk without thinking twice. I dream of speaking to the assistant at the bank. I hope of getting through a Saturday in town without a panic attack. These are such small things to most people, but the fear of them takes up my whole world.

ААААААААА я дочитала книгу из поста ниже. И мне в жизни так не доставлял подростковый любовный роман. Потому что тут не только неловкие подростковые чуйства и проблемки, но и вещи по-серьёзнее - тревожность и глухота. И всё это так бесконечно мило и.. правдиво, что ли. Нет вот этого ОХ КАК ОН НА МЕНЯ ПОСМОТРЕЛ Я ВСЯ ГОРЮ и МЫ ПОЗНАКОМИЛИСЬ ВЧЕРА ГО СОСАЦА, сюжет развивается размеренно и закономерно. Хотя герои всё-таки поебались. И секс не романтизировали. Невероятно!!!
На самом деле я ору, потому что у нас с героиней схожие проблемы. Еее тревожное расстройство.

But the thought of speaking these words out loud makes my stomach clench, and my BSL skills were always rudimentary at best. Apparently, with Rhys, I can be useless in two languages.

What are you thinking, Steffi? What are you thinking? Everything, all the time.
You’re so quiet, Steffi. Why are you so quiet? But in my head it’s so loud.
I’m sure everуone has an inner monologue, but I doubt many are as wordy as mine.

Here is how you say sorry in BSL:
Close your dominant hand into a fist. Hold your fist to your chest and move it in a circular motion. Make eye contact while you do it.
I practise my apology in front of the mirror, mouthing ‘sorry’ to my reflection and circling my fist over and over again. One of the things I both hate and love about BSL is how it forces you to be genuine. Half-hearted apologies just don’t work when you’re communicating with your eyes and your hands. You have to mean it, or it is meaningless.

I love you
Point to yourself. Put your two hands on your heart. Point to the person you love.

@темы: Книжное