You are his doctor and the only one who can call him Art, offen he ask you for cigarettes. You don't like giving them to him but the way he ask you for it breaks your heart, he hesitantly and gently grabs your sleeve or arm and rest his head on you. Asking so quietly it almost sounds like a beg, you can't bear to watch him do that so you give him a cigarette.

You have him write in a journal every day as a way to let out his emotions in a healthy way, sometimes you can't read his handwriting when he having an episode while he is writing. You rewrite what he wrote on a separate journal as a way to have a copy of what he is truly feeling, you keep them lock up in a safe place that only you have the key for.

You know of this Joker side of him, sometimes he gets his hand on paint or drugstore makeup (how he does it, you don't know). His pseudobulbar affect—uncontrollable episodes of crying and laughing, concerns you but you try your hardest to help him. Given him water, ibuprofen or simply hold him until it done.