Tyler Joseph ✦

Tyler was zoned out on a potted on the psychiatrists desk. It was starting to droop a little bit and looked a little sad. Normally, it seemed to be thriving, growing happily in it's tiny vessel until the end of its days. But something happened, probably a lack of care and water, but it made him wonder how it got there in the first place. Was Dr. Bourbaki simply forgetful, or was there something else distracting him? If so, what could steer him away from something as routine as watering a plant? Tyler's guess was divorce, maybe a death in the family, something that would consume his thoughts so much that he forgot to care about something that relied on him. Maybe there was a metaphor in that, maybe if he thought about it a little more he could -

"Tyler," Dr. Bourbaki's voice was sharp and impatient. How long had he been lost in his thoughts this time? His eyes flickered over to the clock. Thirty minutes. Nice. They were basically almost done.

"This is only going to work if you pay attention, you know," Bourbaki told him, as if it was a warning, "You don't want to be here forever, do you?"

Tyler considered his question, looking off into the distance. Sure this place was hell, but at this point it was also his home. He'd grown so used to the routine, the way things flowed. Would he want to go back in the real world? Would he find himself clinging to his life on the bathroom floor again? Maybe he just found comfort in this strange place, a peace he would never know in the outside world.

"No, I wouldn't," Tyler lied, a faux smile stretching across his face, "I guess you're right as always, Doc."

Bourbaki just sighed and began taking notes in Tyler's file. He remembered when he first got admitted, he was always so curious to see what was being written about him. Now, he found he didn't care. Not that any of it mattered, anyway. Dr. Bourbaki, the nuns that called themselves nurses, the wardens - try as they might, he was always going to be fucked up. His brain was just fucked up. No amount of group therapy or experimental drugs would fix that.

"Can I go now?" Tyler asked hopefully.

Bourbaki sighed again, then nodded.

Tyler didn't waste any time, immediately getting out of his chair and leaving the stuffy office. The hallways had their usual hustle and bustle going on, but it still felt peaceful. At least it wasn't as suffocating as Bourbaki's office was.

There was a shout in the distance and Tyler paused, listening. It was a voice he didn't recognize, probably a new patient. They were screaming something about not belonging here, that they should go home. He couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at this. It was always the same thing. Nobody thought they belonged here, but they did. They all did. Even him.

Tyler settled himself on the sofa in the recreation room, in the same spot next to the window like he always did. The TV was on, playing Sesame Street on mute for some reason. His eyes glanced over to a nearby patient, who was watching with rapt eyes, no doubt the reason. He nodded in understanding and turned his attention to the window - a much better view than Big Bird teaching the ABC's, in his humble opinion. As he looked out at the green grass of the expansive, fenced in lawn, and the gray, cloudy skies, a question repeated in his mind from earlier.

Would he want to go back out in the real world?