What's Damien even doing here? What are either of us doing here? I'm not depressed. My parents seem to think I am though.
Well... I could be better, I guess, but I don't think I'm bad enough to be stuck in a psych ward. All it would take is a little bit of understanding from mom and dad to stop me from shutting myself in my room.
Anyways, back to the matter at hand, I don't understand why Damien is sitting here, trying to talk to me. He doesn't look like he needs to be here. He seems fine to me. I mean, he seems a bit confused at everything, but y'know. Not depressed. He was watching Shrek earlier. Who watches Shrek when they're depressed, anyways?
He bites his lip when I say no more after calling him a faggot. "Sorry," he mumbles, getting up and wandering back over to his bed. I watch him go. He scratches at his arm and winces, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He has some of the water from the jug next to his bed and just sits there for a while. Apparently, he's become oblivious to the outside world, ‘cause I'm not exactly watching him subtly, I'm just looking straight at him across the ward, but he doesn't seem to notice. Either that or he just doesn't care.
A small frown flickers on his face. His head turns a little and I feel his gaze slide back over to me. He still looks kinda confused. I shut my eyes and pretend like I hadn't been staring. I hear his footsteps walking off down the ward, and his sing song voice ringing out as he wanders down the corridor, "oh, Campbell, darling."
Okay, so maybe the guy does have issues.
I don't hear any more from him or Campbell after that, though. I guess I'm just left here to think about what's ‘wrong' with me.