There's Nothing Wrong with Her Quotes

“I close my eyes. I see it like an inverted volcano, I tell her. To start with there’s the Pain. That’s the top rung. It can be fierce, or dull, or swing between the two. It can catch you off guard, which makes the fear flare. But for the most part, you can get used to it fairly quickly. After the initial panic—I’m not better, it’s coming back—you remind yourself you are lying on a bed with clean sheets, with a goldfish swimming beside you, with no terminal illness, and all your limbs attached, and you shut the fuck up. A physical endurance test. No less, no more. Next (in descending order) there’s Loneliness. Not the usual kind, which can be solved by speaking to people. But the kind that makes you wonder if you’ve always been lonely. That makes you question, as the darkness wraps around you, if that essential part of you, the far shore against which the sickness wrecks, has ever been known. Weirdly, you can get used to that part too. A kind of emptiness descends, in which nothing matters, so nothing is lost. Below this, things really start to heat up. Because that’s when The Pit changes; the walls constrict and grow slippery, and the voices swirl and echo around you. The ones who don’t believe you. The ones who think it’s all in your head. You can stay on that rung for hours, looping round and round, listening to them judging you. Whispering and shooting glances, suspecting you’re one of those people: a hysteric, looking for attention, or a victim, wanting to duck out of her life. You think that’s the bottom, the place where the voices live, until you fall through the trapdoor into a place that feels most unbearable of all. The smallest and darkest space, where two monsters that should have torn each other to pieces long ago appear to coexist. The first you meet is a prowling dread that circles your brain again and again, telling you that this is now who you are forever: stuck in bed; in life; in time. One of those people you’ve pitied from afar but never thought you’d be. And just when the horror feels like it has filled you, the other one shows up. A snapping, snarling shape-shifter. Hot breath, stinking of self-doubt. That tells you that the voices were right all along. That you made it all up. Which makes you the last person you can ever trust. When I open my eyes, Mrs. Rothwell is looking at me steadily. “How mad did that sound?” She shakes her head. “Maddening. Not mad.”
― Kate Weinberg, There's Nothing Wrong with Her

“To lie convincingly – I read this in one of those free magazines you get on the Underground – steal as much as you can from real-life events. Maintain eye contact for seventy-five percent of the time. Less is shifty. More is creepy. Never touch your face, especially your mouth. Try not to swallow. Swallowing is a dead giveaway. As is smiling too much. Visualise the lie, so you feel you are describing it, not making it up. Use as much detail as possible.”
― Kate Weinberg, There's Nothing Wrong with Her

“fits”
― Kate Weinberg, There’s Nothing Wrong With Her