I awoke the next day totally in a haze. I had a hangover feeling with no awesome, epic story attached to it. I was in the hospital. They put me on a mood stabilizer. Yeah, that's really cool… I can imagine getting a standing ovation from the frat boys. I stumbled to the restroom and noticed it was dark out. Having no clock in my room I had no idea that it was actually 7pm. When I came out of the bathroom one of the other patients saw me.
"Morning, sleepyhead!" she joked.
"You can't sleep?" I asked.
"No hun. It's 7pm. You slept all day; slept like the dead."

I slowly made my way to the common room. I was starving, having not eaten anything since the night before. Unfortunately they had already closed the kitchen, so I'd have to resort to the usual peanut butter and graham crackers at snack time. We would have three snack times a day - one in the morning, one in the afternoon and one an hour or so before bed. And every time, we would be offered peanut butter and graham crackers, and a soda, milk or water. It was quite a comforting snack, but it quickly got tiresome. After filling up on as much snack as I could, I went to take my meds. Again I was given Trileptal, and again Family Guy was more amusing than normal. I decided to go to bed early. And surprisingly, I slept through the night without the help of a sleep aid. To this day, including when I am sick or drunk, I have never slept so much in a 36 hour period, and I doubt I ever will again.

Tim was sitting next to me on my bed. He listened to what I had to say with such interest and his stare was compassionate. He told me that he was here to pick me up and that I was invited to his house for a while. We hopped in his car and arrived at his house ten minutes later. His house always was so warm and inviting… his mom however, was not. I entered the house with him and we sat around the island in his kitchen. His mom offered me coffee, mainly cause she felt she was required to, and sat down across from me. All of a sudden, the compassion that was in Tim's eyes was gone… he was vacant and distracted. This was an intervention. I was warned that if I ever so much as thought about Tim she would do whatever she could to see that I'd be punished for it. She didn't like me. I was this emotional basket case who would doom her son to failure for the rest of his life, and she wasn't going to have it.
"I'm trying the best I can!" I plead, my words falling on deaf ears. I look at him and he looks away.
" We can't be friends," he says. "I just can't take it anymore. You're so dramatic and needy… You've become so annoying. I can't stand it." My heart is crushed. Could this really be happening?
"This isn't fair!" I protest, sobbing. "You said we'd be friends forever! You said you'd always be there for me! You said you loved me! Why are you abandoning me? Why are you abandoning me?!"

"Allyssa… Allyssa… hun, you're having a nightmare." The nurse gently shook me awake. "I could hear you from the nurse's station." I sat up, my heart racing, my forehead drenched in sweat. It was just a dream… no… a nightmare. It didn't happen. We're still friends. He still loves me. It'll be okay. We'll be okay. The nurse offered me a glass of water. I guess all the 3rd shift nurses weren't so bad. I set the cup on my night stand, laid back down and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning I awoke with the buzzer above my head. This time, I hadn't slept for 24 hours. The initial side effects must be wearing off. "I had a nightmare," I told Dr. Eaton. I told him about everything, about Tim, about his mom, about me. I was so afraid that the damage done to our friendship was irreversible. I had to call him. I had to fix this. I just had to. So during my first break, I called him. My hands were clammy as I held the phone in my hand. Why was I so nervous to talk to my best friend? It went straight to voice mail. His voice was soothing, "Hey this is Tim. Leave a message." Oh God what do I say? I don't wanna say the wrong thing… "Hey, it's me," I said nervously. "Just calling to see how your day is going and to tell you I miss you. I'm sorry for being so fucked up. I'm sorry for treating you the way I have. I really wish you would come and see me. It would mean so much to me. I know I don't deserve it, but yeah… Just please call me okay? I'm worried about you and I wanna know if you're okay… if we're okay… Are we okay? I know you want space and I'm trying to give it to you… If you don't wanna talk to me I'll understand. Have a good one. And remember, even though it doesn't seem like it, I care about you." I hung up the phone. I felt sick to my stomach. Damn it what the hell is wrong with me? How hard is it to just give him some damn space?! If I really cared about him I'd be able to give it to him. Tears were streaming down my face. I can't do this anymore! I can't stand it! I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was one of the older male patients.
"You okay?" he asked. I wiped my face and forced a smile. 'No I'm not,' I thought.
"Yeah I'm fine. Thanks for asking."
"Wanna talk?"
"Yeah, sure."

We headed to his room and sat on his bed. I told him about how I had called Tim even though I knew I shouldn't How could I have been so damn stupid? What the hell is wrong with me??
"It's okay," He said. "You're here now. If he really cares about you, he'll understand." All of a sudden, without even realizing it, we began to kiss. My brain had completely checked out. It was all about surviving the moment and doing whatever I could… whatever it would take… to not feel this way anymore. I didn't want to feel this way anymore! Our hands started to wander to carnal places. My heart was racing. Was this happening? All of a sudden something in me snapped and I pulled away. What the hell was I doing? We apologized profusely to each other. I couldn't believe it. I would never in a million years do this drunk, and yet I was doing it completely sober. I got up and left the room. To my relief, he would be discharged that evening. Neither of us told anyone what had happened.

I went out in the common room after the steamy encounter and sat on the couch, trying my hardest to look composed. Football was on TV, it being a Saturday, and I distracted myself by asking the other patients how the game is actually played. I hadn't known then, and to this day, I still don't really understand it. I was obsessed with looking one-hundred percent normal. The phone in the common room rang. One of the other patients got up and answered it. "Allyssa," she said, "it's for you. I think it's Tim."