September

The anxiety of what's coming next has been ever-present. Jay sits in the bathroom, not properly medicated yet, and they think. This could be it. The last time I'll be me, but...no. Look at yourself. You're not even you right now. Or maybe...maybe you are now. The outer you just matches the inner you, now that all of the layers have been peeled back. And...and there's the journal. That's you, before this, during this...it'll be you after this.

Senna knocks on the door. "Jay? Are you ready for your medication?" She found that it was easier on them to call it that. To make it seem more helpful rather than recreational, or optional, even. She was so proud of how far they'd come together.

Jay stares down at the weathered book. "No time like now."