I slammed the tan colored crayon down onto the wall and dragged it across, back and forth, for what must have been the millionth time. It wasn't easy to cover four walls completely with the tan color, but I had already covered one corner, and I was determined to finish it.

The door opened, but I didn't stop coloring ferociously as someone came in.

"Jude, you're going to get in trouble. They won't let you make phone calls anymore if they find you." I recognized the voice as Monique's. She had recently been moved in the room next door to me, and she had a severe case of bipolarness…bipolarism…however the hell you say that word. She had become my friend in the week that she had been here.

"He's not coming to see me anyway, so why should I care about phone calls?" I asked her. I had told her all about you and our situation.

"Well, you never know. Why tan? Isn't your favorite color red?" She asked me. I nodded in response and turned around to face her for the first time.

"Yeah…but his bedroom walls are an off-white/tannish color." I told her. I knew it was just making me seem even more insane, but hell, they still hadn't even diagnosed me, I figured I might as well get more crazy before they find out what it's called.

"You miss him a lot, don't you?" She asked me. For a bipolar person she was extremely nice. But then again, she was under heavy medication.

"You think?" I bit back sarcastically, concentrating again on covering the wall.

"You should just keep him off your mind. Find someone else. Harold is nice." She said.

Harold was the nineteen year old who lived upstairs. He had a variety of diseases. Schizophrenia, ADHD, and OCD. But he was nice.

"It's kind of hard to forget about the person you've been in love with for two years when he's not even talking to you." I told her. I was already getting sick of her being in here. She could at least have helped me color the wall.

I picked at the paper on the stubby excuse of a crayon and stripped it bare so I would be able to color faster.

"Just stop coloring, and go ask to call him again." She said.

I stood up, completely frustrated with the way she didn't understand. I knew it was a mistake to make her angry, because she would completely flip, but she was pulling on my nerves when they were already frayed.

"Just shut up! You don't understand! You haven't been in love, so don't even talk to me about it!" I yelled at her, completely raging.

I immediately recognized the fire in her eyes and attempted to apologize before she freaked out.

"I'm sorry, I really am, I'm stupid and shouldn't have yelled at you."

"Why? Because I'm bipolar? I hate you. I hate how people are always guessing that just because I'm bipolar I'm a fucking moron!" She screamed at me. She looked around for something to throw, but luckily there was nothing in the room but the bed and a box of crayons that I had kicked under it. She just turned around and left the room.

I kneeled down and went back to coloring my room to match the color of yours.