First madness, then suicide

Waldo had little to say in the hospital. He hadn't admitted or realised how crazy he was. City engulfed in flames while he walked in smaller and smaller circles Turrets syndrome; jack knifing and screaming and then hospital and Holdall. Really, he might as well have stayed there for the rest of his life, but that realisation came after. He was entranced with his vision, that they could be so obscenely elaborate. He sat there getting skinnier and skinnier in a panic , that his life was ruined. His father visited for a few hours from Maine. He had a mixture of anger, how could you do this to me, and relief. There were people in the ward who had been there for six months - they didn't what to do with them. He felt he had been pulled up by the roots, but he was still crazy, still manic and unrealistic. He had to admit, new york city thing, that was just your basic crazy person all of a sudden, unable to care for himself or work; he tried to think further and further back, but even that was like a braid that would abduct him back into madness. His brain had broken, all he could remember: everything.