Silent

She is silent as she watches them go by. All of them bitterly lost, conscious of being displeasing to the extreme. All of their judgements under intense scrutiny, mostly invalidated.
I have somehow resisted my right to droop my head. 
I have somehow resisted.
She keeps her head up high because it's the only thing that's getting her by. She tries to avoid the indignities, with their daily, invasive presence. She's letting them know that she's as human as they, that they ought to know better. She's extremely intelligent, they say. We will keep her here against her will anyway.
She keeps silent because speaking out makes it worse. It's all very well for people whose sanity isn't questioned. When you're in a situation like that, your very agency is ultimately suspect. People dismiss your thoughts as a general rule. What you say doesn't matter. Want medical treatment? You're probably lying. Want to say something? You're probably delusional. Why should we listen to you? Go back to your confusion.
She hits all the right notes, for the time being. Saving time.
She's going to be. She's going to be alright.