checked in.

four

"so why are we here again?"

corbyn placed his hand on the car window and glanced out.

"your dementia baby, you need to get better."

"how do i get better?"

"seeing people with your same mental illness, meeting new people who have different mental illnesses."

"mom, no one wants to be friends with a kid who can't even remember their fucking name half of the time. this is pathetic."

"go on corbyn, go see what's it like. i will visit you soon, and if you don't like it , i will take you out."

corbyn grabbed his duffel bag off of the car floor and slammed the door.

"bye mom."

the people here are going to hate me, like everyone else. i know it.