text: I’d love some criticism, not even necessarily constructive lol. TW: Schizophrenia, blood, depression The voices are back. Telling me to do things, say things. I can’t live like this. I want to tear my fucking walls down and find the source of their incessant whispers. It’s worse when I can’t understand them. What are they saying about me? Plotting, waiting for the moment when they can take me down. I can’t do this. I throw open my door and sprint for the woods. The voices are gone, but I know they’ll find me soon enough. A perverted game of hide and seek. As I run, the sky darkens and whispers start to drift from the tree line. Calling me things. Calling me stupid. Calling me lost. I’ve fallen for the trap. I’m lost, wandering with my head in my hands and my eyes pinched shut. The voices call, offering a way out. My eyes open on a fairy ring, something so sweet and innocent twisted by the demons. Death caps form a circle around the small carcass of a baby deer. The voices mutter to themselves louder as the fawn rises, leaving a small pool of red atop the crumpled grass. I watch in horror as the fawn seems to implode, folding in on itself until it’s gone. The mutters grow louder, pushing me towards the ring. Better to wander forever, or resign to my true purpose? The chorus in the trees grows louder, impatient. I need to decide, I need to be faster. The voices almost sound frantic. They’re louder than ever, a deafening chorus of hate. I step into the ring, laying upon the crumpled red grass. I reach for a mushroom, a large one with a thick stem. How do you eat these? Does it even matter? There’s probably no wrong way to eat a poison. The voices are screaming, drowning each other out. They want me to get on with it, give them a show. I take a few bites, and before I know it my vision starts to swim. In the distance, I hear twigs snapping and tall grass being pushed. Everything fades to black. There’s a young boy. Can’t be older than 17, stumbling through the woods with his head in his hands. “Hey” I call to him. I step forward, but I’m stopped by something I can’t see before I can reach the path. I see others, people with sad eyes and desperate voices. They call to the boy, pleading with him. Their voices are turned to whispers by the trees. He grips his ears, like he’s trying to rip them away. We call to him, trying to throw our voices through the barrier. It seems the barrier only grows stronger the more we struggle. I know that yelling louder will just lead to us drowning each other out, but I can’t help it. He’s getting closer to the end. I plead with him, beg him to just hold on a while longer. I yell and scream until my throat bleeds. He reaches the sick imitation fairy ring, a young doe lying in the center. I should be there. I just died, didn’t I? The boy takes a step closer, his face illuminated by a rare patch of light from the setting sun. A face that I know all too well from endless nights in front of the mirror, trying so hard to see who I am. I scream to him, “You don’t have to do this! You don’t have to wander!”. But I falter. What other choice did I have? These voices sounded so hostile from the other side, my path seemed so messy. What else can I possibly do? But how can I know what lies farther on the path? Surely it’s better than surrendering, letting the voices lead me on. Perhaps I’ll learn to hear correctly a mile down the path, I’ll learn to speak a mile after that. Isn’t struggle the only way to learn? He lies in the blood, and a fury overwhelms me. He’s throwing it all away, can’t he fucking understand? He’s letting himself go for no goddamn reason. I scream, I shout, but I know how his story will end. There’s nothing I can do from here. I’m utterly helpless. I let myself go.