I'm RIGHT HERE. I can hear you bastards, you know.
Whispering won't help, I can hear you talking!
Bleh. Somehow word has gotten around that the docs gave me anti-psychotics, so now the rumor is that I'm a schizo. Of course, they won't say it to my face, instead, they whisper about it around the water cooler, forgetting that this room doesn't absorb sound very well. Bastards.
I'm debating whether I should ask Chelsea if she knows anything about what happened that one night where I freaked out. I still can't remember much of anything after writing that weird post, and she must have come back after that. Maybe she knows something?