Takin Over the Asylum once more!

Chapter 4

Later that night:
Campbell was up in the attic going through the box of  his equipment. Carefully pulling the tarp off his trusty mixing console, he wrapped two digits around its knobs, tweaking and fidgeting with the dusty, unused console which had been lying up there ever since he'd hung up his headphones and put away his two decade long radio jockeying career. As his eyes landed on his book on how to be a professional radio jockey (which he'd treasured all those struggling years) lying beside it, his mind went back to a conversation he'd had with Kris earlier that day at the University after she'd offered to help carry his books to the lounge and sat chattering away while he put on his reading glasses and finished up some paperwork:
The musically inclined girl (who suffered from manic depression herself) had gone on and on about multiple topics from Beatlemania to Beliebers, until a silent Campbell decided to interrupt her since her talkative attitude was a bit infectious. She reminded him of a young, female manic version of himself and he didn't really wanna be reminded that he was a young manic himself once upon a time.
"I know ya love to ramble an' so do I. I mean, there's nothin wrong with it....but, I just can't, kay? If I start ramblin, I don't stop an' that's a big problem. Then, my actions get all wonky an' I get carried away. Then, I've gotta take my meds to keep it b under control. An' I  really don't wanna...Take my meds, that is. Not not keeping my disorder under control...I'd like that very much! In fact, I'd prefer not havin to go through a life  constantly mired by sudden mood swings. In fact, I'd prefer that o'er meds entirely....ugh, there I go again! Look at what you've done, lass!" his explanation only ended in him rambling and flapping his hands about excitedly as he spoke. The symptoms had returned and he'd no choice but to grumpily pop his pills.
"My folks wanted to have me incarcerated in one o' those loony bins, but they can't afford it. An' now I'm drivin em crazy!" she'd confided in him, puffing her cheeks up and deflating them to let out an exasperated sigh- exasperation at her own situation and the difficulties in dealing with her own illness. "Tell me bout it. I drove my dad up the wall half the time due to my illness. I drove myself crazy too. That's the whole point o' bein diagnosed with a mental disorder, ya know?  It fucks ya up! Pardon my language." an equally exasperated Campbell shared his own situation, using the F-word for the first time in all his life and blurting it out quite louder than he'd meant to. He was rather apologetic on realizing he'd just sworn in front of an impressionable mind. "That's alright. I'm used to hearin it. I've got a brother who swears a lot. He's got Tourette's syndrome with coprolalia." the understanding girl accepted his apology. From her tone, he understood that she missed her institutionalized sibling terribly and felt sorry for the lonely girl. "Me folks almost ran outta money for his treatment. He's in a loony bin now. It was either im or me. An' he couldn't be on his best behaviour in front o' guests. I guess that embarrassed em even more, so it was im who went an' my sorry self who stuck around." she'd continued solemnly, as if burdened by guilt and helplessness.
He felt sorry for her, just as Ivy did for him as she watched him deep in thought from the doorway.