You're walking through a psych-ward hallway at 3am. You're locked in and haven't slept all day, you have tardive dyskensia, and there's a woman locked in a room screaming in anger and terror while your Ativan wears off, and you can't take more for four more hours while a bunch of guys behind a desk nearby talk about bad TV shows as you pace back and forth. Back and forth. Sometimes you look at the paintings, but it just looks like the paintings are looking at you. No one else is awake, just the screaming woman and the people talking about the TV show. Is it some crime show or something? You can't tell. You have on a hospital gown, and you notice it has flowers on it, but even the flowers feel like they're looking at you.