I'm just… waiting for my call.

No matter how much everyone else says that I am crazy, the friends they can't see are the only ones I need. I've never had anyone who understood me the way they do. After everything that's happened to me, after trying and failing to befriend other countries, after having my little brother shove me away and declare independence, they were always there for me. Forever and always. Right?

Now I'm just waiting for my call, aren't I? But aren't we all?

I'm not crazy.

I swear I'm not.

But if I'm crazy, why am I here? Why do I take these pills that make Flying Mint Bunny and the others go away?

The pills that make my mouth dry and my head spin, that make my vision go blurry, that put me to sleep...

I can hear footsteps. I know that I will soon hear the call…

"Arthur, it's time. We'll have to put you in this jacket, and then we can get you down to the lobotomy room. Don't worry, it'll all be over soon. Everything will be okay."

This is it.

They're calling for me…

I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy…

"I remember when you were great…"

I'm not crazy…

I'm not…