Oh my goodness. I cried from the reviews I've gotten. I'm so happy to hear that people enjoy my writing. I'm sorry for my haphazard updating, I've been caught up with school and preparing for Halloween. I would like to give Axel-Estan a serious shout-out, you gave me the motivation to post this new chapter. Seriously, I would very much enjoy hugging you right now. :)

Notes: I've decided, so as to not break character that I will just explain some of the terminology used here. It makes sense for people who have been in "the system" for a long time to use these terms. These are the only ones I can think of right now that I may use, but I may start putting these little notes up here just in case.

DAA: Drug Addicts Anonymous

Schizo: Slang for Schizophrenic, Schizoid or Schizotypal people. Some take offence to it, most don't as long as it's being used by someone else who is also suffering from a mental affliction.

Christian side hug/Hospital hug/A variation of either: In many mental facilities you are not alowed to hug front-to-front. It can be taken as "sexual touching"

Junkie: Heroin user, or someone who uses many drugs.

Sollux's P.O.V. :

I'm getting that feeling again. The handful of pills the nurse in her white scrubs gives me each morning has stopped working. All I'm left with is a hollow buzzing in the back of my mind. I know the feeling will grow too — Become all-consuming until shit hits the metaphorical fan and my mood either skyrockets, or plummets.

I blame the nurses for taking my fucking glasses.

I'm two days into my stay here and they have me in so many therapy groups I can barely keep track of them. I hate my schedule here. No one should ever wake up before noon. No exceptions. Not only do I have to wake up at six-in-the-goddamn-morning, but I have to be functional, dressed and fucking chipper.

My roommates are alright I guess. This is the first time I've had two roommates. One is the threatening clown guy I saw on my way in, the second one is very nervous. He constantly stutters and has a shitty, creaky, wheelchair. They're both messy, and have obnoxious rap battles at all hours of the night, but it's better than rooming with that angry albino and the glowering sweat-stain (A.K.A. Karkat and Equius.)

The chairs here must all be uncomfortable. These are even worse than the ones in the waiting room. I'm in yet another therapy group. It's kind of like a dumbed-down version of DAA. The junkies, Gamzee being one of them, are sitting in the corner huddled together. They look like fragile tornadoes ... (Great, bring on the artsy depressing thoughts brain. Just. Fucking. Bring it.) The tweakers and coke-heads are twitching so much they are all blurring together.

Then there is me. I don't need to be here. I'm not an addict. I may buy some painkillers every once in awhile, but they're for my headaches. Two Vicodin a day really isn't going to hurt anyone. I don't talk. I have no reason to.

Much to my delight, therapy has ended early. Karkat is throwing another fit. Does that idiot ever calm down? Seriously, anything could set him off.

We are led back to the day-room which is basically our only social area. It's not much to look at. Green plastic couches, a few tables which are bolted to the ground, and an old television encased in Plexiglas (This place must run on that shit, I swear). This weird Autistic, cat obsessed chick is watching the Aristocats for the third time today, making a chart thing that has to do with incestuous cat fucking. I really really wish I wasn't being serious.

Oh god. She stopped drawing. She is looking at me. I really don't feel like engaging in conversation. Not with her. I just can't handle the way she talks. She speaks only in cat puns. CAT PUNS!

"HEY NEW KID, GET THE FUCK OVER HERE!"

Never have I been so pleased to hear an albino scream at me from behin— Nope, not finishing that thought. Shut up repressed gay thoughts.

"Whath up athhole?"

Fuck my lisp.

"WE'RE ROOMMATES NOW YOU FUCKING LISPING FREAK I GOT INTO TOO MANY FIGHTS WITH THAT GREASY BASTARD."

As angry as his voice sounds, he seems kind of happy. Relieved.

"Whatever."

Yep, I made Sollux a closet Homosexual. I'm sorry if you don't agree with it but I feel like it suits him.

I really need to decide where I'm taking this story. If you have any ideas please message me. Should I take a romantic turn with this? Should this turn into sadstuck? Let me know. I value your opinion. :3