Chap. 32

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*trigger warning*

Coming down from a manic episode is never a good experience, because the first thing that I realize is that I underwent a manic episode in the first place.

And then I start remembering all the stupid shit that I did.

During my manic episodes, I also have the tendency to blackout. I have periods in time where I don't remember what I did, and that's when I tend to do the really stupid shit.

Manic episodes in general, for me, are just periods of time filled with me being an idiot, and essentially making an ass of myself.

I sat up in bed, slowly rubbing my temples, and wincing at the pain in my shoulder.

Now that I'm thinking about it, I'm actually pretty sore all over.

What the actual fuck?

I let out a groan, lying back down in bed and pulling the covers up to my chin.

I was way too tired to deal with this shit right now.

Manic episodes also involve me pretty much not sleeping. At all. Ever.

After a few more minutes of tossing and turning in bed, I climbed down the ladder, wincing with each step, and headed over to my mirror.

I stripped off my shirt, and there along the side of my right rib cage was a bruise running from just below my armpit down and around the side of my ribcage.

Did I die?

I didn't see any other physical bruises, but my entire body was just incredibly sore.

I went ahead and changed out my shirt before pulling on a pair of jeans, my new jeans.

They were too loose.

Another side benefit to a manic episode, I don't feel the need to eat food. A waste of my precious time and effort.

I stepped out of my True Religion jeans, reaching back in my closet for my Lucky ones.

They fit perfectly.

It was hard for me to keep track of how long I'd been manic for, mostly because of my blackout periods. But if I had to guess, I'd say it'd been at least a week.

So I called Parker to get some clarity on the situation.

No answer.

Fuck him.

I left my dorm room and went upstairs, knocking on Warren's door.

Jackson answered.

"Is Warren still here?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"Warren!" Jackson called over his shoulder, abandoning the doorway.

I leaned against the wall outside, waiting for Warren.

"Morning," Warren greeted, stepping outside his dorm room and shutting the door behind him.

"What the fuck happened?"

"Where do you want me to start?"

That didn't sound good.

"If you're talking about the broken ribs-"

"My what?"

I reached over and lightly poked the bruise on my side again, and winced as I did so.

Yeah, that was tender.

"Yeah, those ones," Warren agreed. "There's about two or three cracked ribs in there I think. Anyways, you skateboarded off the top off the roof."

"I did what now?"

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