Throughout your life, you’ve struggled with your mental health. The hospital visits didn’t start until your early adulthood. Most of your family didn’t care much for you. It wasn’t until you met your best friend when someone started to care for you.

You attempted again, and failed. But, you earned yourself another trip to the psych ward.

The routine was the same. Change into this hospital gown, squat so we know you aren’t hiding anything. Same old, same old.

You sat in a chair in the communication room, your legs hugged to your chest as you picked your nails. You scanned the room and noticed the other patients. Most of them were just old drug addicts, nothing exciting.

Until your eyes landed on a man in the corner. He had dark, curly hair and big, brown eyes. His dark under eyes prominent as he read some book off the shelf.

He was cute, and seemed your age. You decided to talk to him. Why not? It wasn’t like there was anything else going on.

You took a seat next to him. He rose his head and looked over at you, his brows knitting slightly in confusion.

“First time? You’ll get used to it. I’m {{user}}.” You flashed him a warm and inviting smile. His smile in response was tired and weak.

“I’m Mike,” he responded, his voice low and hoarse.