Chip Abaroa (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
demonpuppy) wrote2016-12-27 02:45 pm
demonpuppy) wrote2016-12-27 02:45 pm
(no subject)
Chip hates this place.
They hate the smell of the halls, the doctors everywhere, the way everyone keeps deciding things FOR them. Here's your breakfast Chip, we're going to your therapist now Chip, let's head this way now Chip, you can't do that here Chip...they don't belong here. It's stupid and pointless and everyone just wants to twist their head around wrong and they just want to go home. But instead they're sitting at a stupid table with a stupid paper and stupid crayons making a stupid drawing of who they are.
It's pointless. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The black crayon is nearly gone, with how much they've scribbled all over the paper. It's all they are inside, black and gross and disgusting, just like the bad thing in Mama's head always tells her, and scrubbing the color across all that white with vicious energy is almost cathartic. Chip drops the crayon for a moment to flex their hand, wincing at the cramped pain, and double-take at the kid sitting next to him. Most everyone else is at least trying to draw, but he hasn't even picked up a pencil.
"...why aren't you drawing?"
They hate the smell of the halls, the doctors everywhere, the way everyone keeps deciding things FOR them. Here's your breakfast Chip, we're going to your therapist now Chip, let's head this way now Chip, you can't do that here Chip...they don't belong here. It's stupid and pointless and everyone just wants to twist their head around wrong and they just want to go home. But instead they're sitting at a stupid table with a stupid paper and stupid crayons making a stupid drawing of who they are.
It's pointless. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The black crayon is nearly gone, with how much they've scribbled all over the paper. It's all they are inside, black and gross and disgusting, just like the bad thing in Mama's head always tells her, and scrubbing the color across all that white with vicious energy is almost cathartic. Chip drops the crayon for a moment to flex their hand, wincing at the cramped pain, and double-take at the kid sitting next to him. Most everyone else is at least trying to draw, but he hasn't even picked up a pencil.
"...why aren't you drawing?"