Maze Runner One Shots (Requests Open)

Manic (Jacob)

(Let me start by saying this chapter is about Bipolar. I am in no way romanticizing or stereotyping it. This is simply what manic episodes are like for me. At the same time everyone experiences it differently. Remember that, and stay safe)

Life has been a wreck recently. I don't understand why. I had been doing so great. I'd been having a good time with my cast mates and friends. I always looked forward to filming, and I did a good job.

Then, I crashed. I don't know why this surprised me. I know my mania doesn't just go away because I have fun, a good life, therapy, or even the right medications. Yet after going through all this since I was a kid it still catches me off guard. I worry that others know before me.

Lately, I'm sure that's true. I'm not stupid. I notice how the room changes when I'm in it. I'd have to be blind not to.

The one good thing is that I haven't completely snapped at someone. That doesn't mean I haven't been snappy though. It just means I haven't said awful things or scared anyone. I don't want to do these things, but when I'm manic the whole world changes. All of a sudden everyone hates me and is against me. This is part of why my parents were worried about this when I told them we were filming in a completely different state, but how could I pass up this opportunity? After all, my doctor's could just video call, and I'm capable of picking up my medication. I know my limits.

Apparently, not as well as I think. My psychiatrist forced me to take a sick week a few months ago. I fought with him about it until I finally gave in. This ended up being exactly what I needed.

Right now, I don't want to take any sick days. We have one of the biggest scenes, and I have to be there. My therapist has suggested telling the directors to see if we could arrange something, but I shut that down.

Now I'm sitting in my hotel room while everyone else is roaming the halls doing who knows what. They're probably having fun, and I'm sitting on the bed talking to my psychiatrist.

"No. I swear that it's different. When I walk in the room it changes."

"Y/N, do you think you're going manic? Everything you described fits that description, and you know you can read into things when this happens."

"No. I'm not paranoid. You're not here to see,"I argued.

"Y/N, right now I highly suggest you take some time off. When's the last time you've gotten any-"
"I don't need to sleep. I've got my coffee and energy drinks. Those keep my awake,"I pointed out.

He pursed his lips in disapproval, and I knew my lecture on drinking caffeine when I'm in an episode was coming. I don't know why I expected otherwise.

"I take the medicine and do other stuff. Everyone else stays up late. Sometimes even all night. Why can't I?"I asked, though deep down I knew the answer.

"Y/N, at the end of the day your brain chemistry is different. You just work differently than others. That means you need more or less things than others. You need more sleep, more reminders to do necessities, more time, less stress, and a few other things."

"I don't though. I can live on my own like a normal person. I'm doing great here."

"You know how I feel about the word normal Y/N."

I do know, but I didn't want to hear it. No matter what he says I could never be like everyone else. I hate it.

"This isn't fair! I don't want your godamn lecture on why everything is okay! You're just someone who thinks you can tell me what I am because you have some plaque!"I exclaimed.

He looked at me. At least, he probably was. I was glaring at the wall.

"Do not destroy or do anything rash or major. Call your family. I don't think you're safe on your-"
"I'm perfectly safe! I'm fine so shut up!"