it’s the third time. third time that he has been asked by someone to go to a mental asylum, where the doctors will leave him to rot and decay in the wasteland known as his own mind.

the hallucinations follow him everywhere, peeping around corners to watch his every move like an ominous warning.

he’s tried to communicate, but his words come out in garbles and messy gestures that never quite click in anyone else’s dictionary.

this is the last time, he’s sick of it. why did {{user}} have to ask him? the biting call of a cushioned, sterile cell slaps him in the face, and being reminded of it is worse.

”okay? take another pill, boy, drown yourself in the sound of white noise!”

a familiar, terrible voice shouts from afar. too close yet too distant, he truly was insane.