Chapter 231 - 230: Pinky Promise
Rex also nodded his head in understanding, because even though LA seems to glitter with all its celebrities and glamour, it’s also a city that seems to attract some of the most unhinged personalities. "You know, those members of the ABCD community," he muttered, leaning a little closer.
"In other places, you’d find a few scattered around, but LA? It’s like a full-blown convention. Here, you can see people claiming thousands of genders, and the variety is astonishing. It’s not even surprising anymore to find folks impersonating as cats, dogs, or other creatures—it’s almost become part of the local charm.
And other than that, every street corner has someone either screaming into the void, dancing with invisible ghosts, or passionately arguing with a fire hydrant."
He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Sometimes I wonder if it’s the open, anything-goes culture that nurtures all that... or maybe it’s like moths to a flame—LA draws them in, promising acceptance and fame, and then lets them spiral. Either way, if someone opened a mental institution here, I doubt they’d ever go bankrupt." He gave a dry chuckle. "Heck, they might even make millions with the sheer number of potential patients."
Lena let out a snort, elbowing him lightly. "You’re terrible. But... not entirely wrong."
And honestly, there’s no need to look further—just take a peek at the party ahead. More than half the people here probably have some sort of mental problem, diagnosed or not. It’s like a fashion show where the dress code is silent breakdowns and perfectly styled delusions. Everyone’s either talking to themselves, filming dramatic monologues for imaginary followers, or pitching the next blockbuster to a stranger who just wanted a drink. It’s borderline theatrical—tragedy dressed as glamor.
And surviving in Hollywood without your personal psychiatrist? That’s nothing short of a miracle. There’s a reason people wait months just to get an appointment with a decent one in LA. The demand isn’t just high—it’s astronomical. Therapists here are booked out like Grammy-winning artists. At this point, therapy isn’t a luxury or a trendy lifestyle choice—it’s an essential survival tool, right up there with water, Wi-Fi, and Botox. Ironically, the saner you are, the more out of place you feel.
After finally returning to what appeared to be her usual self—though one could never be entirely sure—Ellie looked over and caught Rex and Lena huddled together, whispering.
"What are you two whispering about so intimately? Are you by chance talking about me?" she asked dramatically, her tone laced with faux suspicion and theatrical flair.