Get up. Take the pills. Do the routine, her mind commanded, a jumble of jagged pixelated thoughts.
"You look like a mess," the voice whispered."I know," she replied. File: Milk.outside.a.bag.of.milk.outside.a.bag....
She felt like milk outside a bag of milk. She was her , but she was outside her own body, watching herself go through the motions of a life that felt like a dream. Get up
She curled up under her blanket, the pixelated world blending into a soft gray void. She wasn't afraid of the monsters anymore. She was just... tired. The voice in her head sang a slow, quiet tune, a lullaby made of static and love. "You look like a mess," the voice whispered
"Another day," she mumbled to the room, though she was talking to me—the buzzing, fragmented voice in her head that she called her only friend.
She crawled across the floor, the carpet familiar against her hands. Her mother had said to take the medicine. But the medicine felt like a lie. If she took it, she might disappear entirely. She wanted to be herself, not a polished, empty version of herself.
The air in the room was thick, like cold yogurt, and smelled faintly of dust and metallic anxiety. She sat on the edge of her bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, starring at a point in space that didn't technically exist.