Pencils, Dust, and Imperfection

Opacity was all I could see, but when the obscure lighting in my eyes corrected itself after a few blinks, I was able to realize that I was in the hospital once again. The lividness was gone and I was left with redundancy, and I don't know which hand I liked better.

My head was killing me again, but I was learning to ignore the pain. The ache resided everywhere on my body now, but it was especially excruciating in my head; probably because that's where Christian and Gloria are.

I've actually been quiet for the last few hours, Armstrong.
Gloria's the one who hasn't shut up.

Is it opposite day or what? Why is Gloria being annoying and you're behaving?

I'm not going to mis-behave without an audience.
You've gotta be awake, or screwing with you isn't fun.

Great. I had hoped you turned a new leaf.

Ha! How long have you known me, Armstrong?

Long enough to know that was just wishful thinking.

In the most naive and idiotic way.
I thought I crushed your optimism.

Not all of it, but most of it; Gloria kept it intact, but now she's pissed off at me.

I'm not pissed, I'm just upset.
I just want you to appreciate me, Billie.

Gloria, how can I appreciate a symptom of a terrible illness?

I know, I know! And I'm sorry.
You like me more than Christian, though, right?

Definitely...but that's an easy accomplishment.

What the hell?
I've been good for the last few days.

Yes, you have, Christian.
You can get a gold star from your father, Lucifer.

That was cold.
See how mean she is, Armstrong?

And do you see how you deserve every ounce of it?

I control your dreams, remember?
Time for an awesome nightmare.

"Billie Joe?" A familiar voice asked. I looked over to see Mike and Tre, and my stomach started doing back flips. I just didn't want anyone to see me like this.

"Hey," I said, surprisingly normally. I remembered what happened last time I was awake, whether that was yesterday or a year ago, I don't know, but I needed to know the answer.

"How did I do on the thing?" I asked as I sat up in the bed, getting sick of laying down.

They glanced at each other. Mike sighed before Tre slowly said, "You failed with flying colors."

"So...I...?"

Mike nodded. "You have Multiple Personality Disorder..."

I don't know why, but the fact that it was definite caused me to lose it. I started crying, and I felt like an idiot, but I couldn't help it.

Tre put his hand on my arm as Mike tried to comfort me by saying, "The session wasn't even finished and the psychiatrist knew...Billie, this is a good thing, in a way; it's the best case solution in a situation like this. The doctors want to give you the treatment. They were waiting for you to wake up 'cause they need your consent."

I just nodded, my tears stopping, "Where's Adrienne?" I quickly questioned.

"She was here, but she had to check on Joey and Jakob," Tre answered. "She figured you'd be out longer. She said she'd be back soon, though."

I nodded again, afraid my mouth wouldn't work. I couldn't say anything because nothing could really be said. I mean, what was I supposed to say to all of this? I knew MPD was the answer for a while now, but, I guess actually realizing it and seeing everyone else become aware of it too was scary, to say the least, and no words could accurately describe it.

Since I knew what was wrong with me, everything seemed to go back to being black and white--completely achromatic, but in a good way. The doctors were going to start the treatment, and, hopefully in a few days, Christian and Gloria will be gone, along with the blackouts, depression, and body pains. I just couldn't wait for things to get back to the way they used to be.

So, you're gonna get that magic cure all pill, huh?
You're gonna kick me and the assiduous saint out of this awesome crib?

That's the plan, yeah.

Well, I don't appreciate that too much, Armstrong.

Well, there's nothing you can do.
Billie got a diagnosis, and he's going to take the treatment. We'll be gone. I guess we should take one last good look around, 'cause it'll all be over soon.

But it isn't fair, is it Gloria?
You've busted your ass for Armstrong and got no credit for it. Now, he's killing us off. It doesn't seem to just in my point in view.

Your point of view doesn't exist, Christian, so nothing you do or say matters.

I'm not gonna go out quietly, Armstrong.

What are you talking about, Christian?

I'm talking about another plan.

To what--conspire against me?

To keep me here in this comfy cerrebelum.

But why? This war is over; like Gloria said, I have a diagnosis and I'm getting treatment. You can't stop this, or delay it, so why try?

Because I am the adversary.
And I enjoy fucking you over.

Christian, you can't do anything. Billie has a disease, and he'll get treatment.
Nothing can be done.

You're right.
I can't do anything on my own, but if you help out, I bet we could crash in this brain for life.

You're a sick delusion, you know that?

What makes me sick? I'm just fulfilling a purpose.
I want to go out with a bang, remember?

This is ridiculous and pathetic. There's no chance that you can harm me in anyway anymore.

Not if I have a tag team.
C'mon Gloria; you've got nothing to lose. It's not like you'll lose Armstrong respect or appreciation.
He never gave you any of those, ever.

That's just because I ruined his life.

How? By being his conscience; his sense of rationality? We may not be real entities, but i was the asshole, not you. I ruined his life, you picked up the ruins and tried to put them back together, but Armstrong never cared. Isn't that such a slap in the fuckin' face?

Don't listen to him, Gloria; he's just trying to fuel the flames of his unjustified inferno.

He sounds pretty justified to me.

What? You can't be serious, Gloria.

Christian may be crazy, psychotic antinomian, but he's right. I don't have anything to lose in trying to save myself. I know that makes you unhappy, but I just don't care anymore. I'm sick of caring, actually, and if joining Christian in the fight against you mean I might have some glimmer of something to live for, then so be it.

But you have nothing to live for because you don't live! How many times do I have to tell you that--

You never gave me any adulation! You treated me like an enemy, when I was just trying to help you!

Deja vu. We already had this conversation, and I hate broken records. Are you in or not, Gloria? Yes or no?

I'm going to have to say yes.

Awesome! I knew you were a rebel behind your stupid and amiable ways.

Insulting me makes me want to work with you less, so stop calling me every name in the book.

I'll stop being an ass, if you'll commit to this plan 110%.

Deal.

OK, then.

I just sighed and tried to go to sleep. Tre and Mike still with me in the room. If only they knew the trials I was going through, maybe I wouldn't feel so resentful.