Chapter Text
Wake up. Get out of bed. White pill. Blue pill. Other white pill. Get dressed. Calm down. Go to class. Hide in the bathroom. Calm down. Go to class. See Vic. Go to class. Go back to the dorm. Calm down.
The same thing.
Every fucking day.
And then Vic starts telling me about how great of an artist her photography teacher is. He’s famous, you know? I want that. So I go, and I talk to him, and he says he can teach me after regular classes. Full schedule and all that shit. And, you know, we start talking.
He asks me to tell him about myself.
I say there’s not much to tell, that he’s probably heard it all.
He says, “No, I want to know who you really are.”
So I tell him. I tell him that I’m Nathan Prescott. My family is rich and my dad doesn’t care about me. My best friend is Victoria. I’d die for her.
He says, “Good start. Tell me more.”
And I do. I tell him I see a therapist every week and take medicine every morning. White pill, blue pill, other white pill. I tell him that I feel empty a lot and I’m always tired. I tell him I see and hear things that other people don’t.
He pauses for a while, then asks me why I want to be an artist.
I say I want my dad to really see me.
He says, “Unless you point a camera in a different direction, no matter how much you tell it to focus, its view will remain the same.”
He asks me again why I want to be an artist.
I tell him I want to feel something real.
He smiles.