^Lost^in^Our^Minds^D7^Mental Hospital Plot^ [Open]

When you are Anabiel Glauster, you are never alone.
To the common observer, you are. But you know that you will never truly be by yourself without the echos of other people's voices telling you what is right and what is wrong and how to live until you draw your own blood just to make sure it's still there.
You wish they were gone, but at the same time, you don't know how to live without them.
Because here's the thing about having so many other people living inside your head: You forget how to be yourself. There are so many conflicting arguments and knotting, lashing words going back and forth it is all you can do to keep from screaming. So you don't know how to be, because when you are being shoved from both sides, you lose bits of yourself. And soon, there will be nothing.
It's easy for most people. But you don't know how to be alone, and you don't know how to be around other people. You don't know how to do anything. You are not anything.
You are nothing. That is all you are.
Stupid, stupid girl.

The world is shades of grey.
Other people see in color.
I'm talking metaphorically. I have a lot of problems. Colorblindness is not one.
Anyway.
Other people see things, and they're bright and warm and happy. And for me, everything is smooth, cool, unchanging grey. And that's it.
It's not always there, either. It hovers around me like a cloud in the distance on a summer day, and you think, "Oh, Ripred, please don't let it rain today." But it does, and your clothes are drenched and your day is utterly ruined and nobody else understands why you're wet, and they just ask why you don't make yourself dry. And you can't.
It's like that.
And it settles around you sometimes, too, just completely out of the blue. And you can't see any end in sight, and it feels like it will be there forever- and it weighs you down and you can't get up. And everybody expects you to walk.
It's that.
And sometimes, you have a good day. You feel fine. But it doesn't last.
It never lasts.
I wasn't always this way and I don't know where it came from. I've had a decent enough life. Nothing tragic. But that doesn't mean it's not real.
I've been underwater and I keep breaking the surface only to get shoved back down.
And I just want to breathe again.