"Barring the brief psychotic episode I had where I saw everything as a Christmas special, my imagination tends to make things cooler and edgier rather than overly saccharine. So yes, if my subconscious was manifesting a version of the Easter Bunny, he would be a martial artist mythic superhero. I'm surprised you didn't hop into the room carrying a machine gun," Abed said into the couch.

He took in a few deep breaths.

"We're talking. We're having a conversation here. Why isn't all this going away? This needs to go away. If this doesn't go away my friends won't be able to protect me this time and I'll finally get institutionalized."

He said it so matter-of-factly that it was abundantly clear how much of a consistent threat it'd been throughout his life.

"Maybe I should just stop fighting it. Let's face it, I've been dancing on the edge of that cliff for a long time now and without Troy I probably won't be able to function. Everything he said in the other delusion about me being able to take care of myself would only have really meant something if I'd been able to actually break free and I didn't. I'm still here. You're still here."

A pause. "My dad will probably be relieved."