To be fair, Adam *tries* to convince them not to institutionalize you. It's the reason you answer his letters.
He just doesn't get very far.
"My name's Joan," you say, and feel stupid. Group therapy is stupid. Being locked away in a room with a crazy girl is stupid. Everything here is so stupid, up to and including the therapist.
"Hi Joan," the group dutifully chants back. This girl in the corner rolls her eyes, biting her lip. Her eyes glint like the crazies always do, but hey, at least she's not trying to tell you her deepest, darkest secret yet. Or trying to bite her own elbow, which is what the girl beside you is trying to do.
You say, "I hear god," and in the corner, you see the angry looking girl suddenly perk up.
"So," and she sits down without being invited. "How does god talk to you? Voices? Does he tell you to cut yourself?"
You hunch over. Great. "Mostly it's some snotty little kid or this really hot guy, and no," you say resentfully, "he doesn't tell me to cut myself, or other people." You sigh. "He told me to learn how to play piano once."
"Why?" the girl says, and you blink. "I mean," she goes on, "that doesn't seem like a very important mission."
"What are you," you start to say, about the same time as you realise that she's not actually arguing with you about whether you talk to God or not, just about what you were told to do.
"I'm Jaye," she declares, as if you asked. She holds up a plastic frog, and sighs as if the weight of the world is on her shoulders. "The frog says we should watch TV."