AN: I'm so sorry this is so late. I've been SO wrapped up in school. Junior year is so inconceivably stressful. I have a new boyfriend to top it off, too. Life is blatantly insane and even though I don't even do half my work, I feel bogged down. Weekends dedicated to trying to divide my time up between my best friend and my boyfriend. Going to parties, planning my own parties. Just going out and trying to live. I'm quite upset that I haven't been keeping up with this, guys. I swore that besides Summer Colors and November Air, this would be another finished story. We've still got a ways to go. We have to go through Squee, his realization of who he is, how he feels about Devi, his revenge, if he decides to even take it, on the therapist. So much ground to cover! I'm so sorry for the delay! I have a couple random days off this week, so I SHOULD be doing good things. Like updating more frequently. Hehe. It's a bit short, as always. sniff I'm sorry for that too. God. I suck.

Medication:

Chapter Nine: Changes:

We walked wearily up the sidewalk and to the front door. My doctor said I had...have...Whatever the story is now, since this changes everything, a condition known as "bipolar". I think Devi might have this condition. He explained that it's when someone goes from being perfectly fine one moment to being completely vicious and distraught the next. If that definition is correct, I think she's bipolar. She acts like it.

But part of me thinks this might be her. Part of me thinks it's me doing this to her. That it's me now, and the way I apparently was that's pushing her to the brink of utter distraction. I can't remember anything. Such a flicker of hope burned through me when I remembered something as small as the bear that this boy carries. Carried. Who knows how old he is now or how long I've been under such medication.

Another thing about Devi...She constantly looks so stressed. Just completely stressed. I can understand how she feels. Though our concerns are similar, we're not under pressure, or being disturbed by the same things. I beg to remember anything at all. I beg to be able to go without having to take such copious amounts of medication. I pray to whatever god may be listening or attending their post that I can just...remember someone calling me by my name.

"Nny, don't be upset if you can't remember a lot of details before living next door. The way I understood it, you never really remembered anything before here. So just take it slow. Okay?" she asked. She seemed a lot more patient...but you never know with those bi-polar people. One minute they're fine, the next...Whoo. Watch out.

She pushed the doorbell. After muffled screeches and what sounded like a plate shattering, the door opened, and a boy slid out of the house, in unreserved horror and bewilderment apparent on his face. Many of my therapist's patients looked like that. I suppose they weren't as heavily medicated as I seemed to be. At least that's what Devi keeps telling me...That no one should ever be taking that much medicine, ever, for anything. I so desperately want to fill this void in me. I suppose it's a void I always knew was there. Apparently the heavy doses of medications I was on hid it from me and made me unaware of it.

I believe I asked my therapist about it one day. About the meds, I mean. He mumbled something under his breath about being world renowned after this "curing", how he'd have the medical and psychiatric world in his palms. I didn't pay attention, and never really connected it until this moment.

Just then, Devi began to speak.

"Johnny, this is Squee. Squee, remember Johnny? Nny?" she said. And Squee looked at her like she was crazy.

"Yeah...I know who he is, Devi. Why is he HERE though?! I thought-"

"Shhh! Yes, you remember him. Squee...He's not the Nny that used to save you all the time. A therapist got a hold of him and owned his existence."

"...Really?" he asked, his eyes darting from Devi to me. His eyes were big. He was quite tall. Painfully skinny, too. Like myself. I can imagine myself being quite close with a young boy like this.

"...Nny?" he asked, frightened. Somehow I got the sense that was just his personality. Well, in combination with me...But I'm so good. I'm sweet, and polite, and nice. How could anyone ever fear me?

I don't understand. I just don't get it.

How could anyone fear me? I'd never hurt a fly.

I swear I wouldn't.

I'd never, ever hurt anyone. Or even WANT to.

Not that I know of, anyway...