earlier this year when i was in the Green Oaks Psychiatric Hospital, my roommate was a schizophrenic guy named Darrel (although he let me call him Wade, his real name). the other day driving home i saw him sitting outside of Tiggers, writing in a notebook. i parked across the street and as i was feeding the meter, a bus pulled up and Wade ran aboard. i considered following the bus, then decided that i was not meant to see Wade on that particular occasion. i hope he is ok, but somehow i don't think so.
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