I don't know if I can leave.
...I hear voices sometimes, that tell me to do things. I'm not crazy. They're real, and it's a disease I... they're real. I'm not crazy. -Takes a drink of water, struggling to stay lucid- They got bad a few months ago. Made me sicker. So I went in to get it fixed by special medics what know how to help.
...They gave me medicine. Special kinds. The idea was, it would hurt my head worse. But it'd get rid of the voices too. Like how a fever cooks you and your flu, or how old-fashioned cancer meds were poison.
It worked, though. I did get sicker, for side effects, like they said, but... but I can't hear them anymore. Barely. But I'm still getting worse every other way.
I think they're doing it on purpose. My friend, what got me the treatments, nobody's seen him in three weeks. No one will answer my questions. Things are happening to me like they were the first time and the only difference is that this time a guard hasn't come in to break my jaw 'cause he was drunk.
edited 4th Jul '16 1:00:23 AM by WonderSquid

-sits back down-
...It's, uh... it's a bad idea to mix alcohol and drugs, y'know. Jimi Hendrix died from that.
-helpful-
UN JOUR JE SERAI DE RETOUR PRÈS DE TOI