Psychology Books Online For Free นิยาย & เรื่องราว

The room was filled with shelves of books. I hadn’t ever liked to read, but it was better than sitting around doing nothing. I went to the first shelf and frowned at the title. “Financial Analytics… Psychology: A History…” I kept walking. I didn’t know what any of these books were supposed to be about, but I kept looking for something that seem more interesting and something I could understand. I heard people walking down the hall past my room. “She can clean up after herself,” someone said. “What I would give to have a night alone with the alpha… It’s such a waste on that half breed.”

I blushed, shook my head, and cleared my throat. “I mean, I’ve been planning to give you since you solved the assignment. The book is very important, it costs the owner’s life.” “What?” he asked in surprise. He’s too young to know the story of the book. The book isn’t popular because it’s the author’s first book. He was a psychologist and also labelled a psychopath. What he wrote in the book was facts about human nature, how to read people and how to make them respect you at all costs as their boss.

I need to process and just have a minute to breathe. I turn the books the right way up and try to slide them back into the shelves silently when the title of the first catches my eye and stops me pushing it in. It’s a psychology textbook about his personality condition and I impulsively tip it sideways to let the pages flip open for a quick nosey. That part of me that is eager to know more about what it means in terms of him as a person kicking in. I scan the words eagerly, desperate for more insight.

"I had to get away." "Where did you want to go?" "Nowhere." He didn't bother pointing out the contradiction. I was full of them. My restless hands looked for somewhere to hide and escaped into my pockets. "Do you want to take off your coat?" he asked me. "It's OK." "Well, at least sit down." He nodded toward his office. That was when I realized I was still standing and walked through the door, stopping in front of his bookshelves, perusing the titles. Most of them were texts on psychology and animal behaviour. Eventually, I stopped and tapped the spine of a book, The Interpretation of Dreams by Sigmund Freud.

"This code is making my brain hurt, want anything from the coffee cart downstairs?" "I'm okay," I said. "Be right back, don't get kidnapped by a serial killer while I'm gone." She grabbed her wallet and headed for the elevator. I watched her go, then turned back to my textbook. I was reading about cognitive behavioral therapy and the treatment of anxiety disorders, which felt both ironic and depressing. I knew all these techniques, I'd tried all of them but nothing worked completely. I was so absorbed in reading that I didn't notice I'd been slowly sliding my psychology textbook closer to the edge of the desk.

They became friends which is the reason for him to be my friend too. Now, I'm here in one of their blue tents. Klirro is also here and he's been doing some retouching with his stylist who likes him. He's just reading and reviewing his script while I already decide to read as well for my next subject. I've already finished reading a few chapters of Clinical Tales, these books were about sacks of documents about strange and fascinating cases that other graduated and professional psychologists already faced. This is the best part of psychology, the book we're reading was actually interesting but sometimes it just really hits me as they called the reading block.

She was pretty and looked within her early twenties. "Is it a college project?" She asked. "No, just leisure reading." I replied. "Oh, then these are the best for you." She tapped on the books on my hand. "Hmm, thanks." I scanned the giant shelves of books. "So anything in particular you're looking for in a psychology book?" She asked, leading down a hallway. "Conquering inner demons, I suppose." I really didn't know what I was looking for but deep down, that was the answer written in bold letter.

"I'm glad you do. But I must tell you this; it's going to be hard. It's not going to be easy. You'd feel like bailing and you'd feel like a shitty person. We all are at a point in our lives before we heal. So when you come the day after tomorrow, I want you to come with every baggage you can carry and we will offload as much as we can to make you feel lighter by the time you return home, okay?" I nodded. She picked a book and handed it over to me. "This is a book I wrote last year: The Abstractness of The Mental. I give it out for free to my patients as I like to call you all." I laughed and nodded before looking down at the book. It had a glossy feeling to it and a picture of the brain and