coffee stains [COMPLETED]

monday, november fourteenth

minor trigger warning. read chapter with caution. (tw: brief mention of death, schizophrenia, pills)

dear vic,
it's been about a week since i've written to you. i couldn't think over the noise. my therapist said i'd need to take more pills. i'm not happy about that. the pills taste like expired orange peels covered in chalk. can orange peels expire? i don't know. my therapist also said that i shouldn't listen to the voices. i can't help it, though. they're constantly telling me to do bad things. to myself and others. i'm sorry, vic. i'm not crazy, i swear. i hope you still like me. i didn't order anything when i came in. i sat down and immediately started writing. letters, short stories, suicide notes, anything you could name. no, i'm not planning on killing myself. i just like the feeling of finalisation. my life's end is on that piece of paper and for a few minutes i can feel like i'm finally free. free from the people, the voices, the urges, and most of all, you. i feel like a high school girl around you, victor. you make me feel. i don't know what i'm gonna do about you. i'm too scared to talk. oh, and now you're walking over here.
           will s.