[img]https://i.imgur.com/dXcsLFi.png[/img]
[indent][color=D6BEE1]𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎 𝚓𝚎𝚊𝚗[/color][/indent][img]https://i.imgur.com/dXcsLFi.png[/img]

WARNING: 
[indent][sup]Millie Jean is extremely depressed and this shows some of her suicide ideation. I don't want to label her as "suicidal" and then [i]not[/i] show that in her thought process. If any of this will affect you or your mental health, message me and i'll give a tl;dr[/sup][/indent]

[color=gray][indent]Get up, shower, eat, lay down, sleep. Rinse, wash, repeat.

Millie Jean doesn’t know what she’s waiting for; doesn’t know what she’s [i]supposed[/i] to be waiting for. Sitting in her bed, legs crossed and eyes staring vacantly at her butterfly terrarium, she can hear Kellie Anne’s sobs from the next room over. Millie Jean doesn’t understand why Kellie Anne cares so much about some stupid boy; there will be other people to date. Fall, confess, date, break-up. Rinse, wash, repeat.

Living is so tiring. Everything is so formulaic, just reiterations upon reiterations, and Millie doesn’t really see the point in doing it all over and over and over again. Then again, there’s something wrong with Millie Jean so maybe she just doesn’t get it – of course, everyone says there is nothing wrong with her, that being mentally diseased doesn’t mean she’s wrong. Millie knows different, though: she’s broken and what’s the point of existing if you can never be fixed?

Her phone vibrates against her leg, the alarm notifying her to take her pills and get up out of bed to move around. Standing up, Millie Jean dragged her feet towards her dresser where her pills were encased – she swallowed them dry, liking the way it burned down her throat. She hated taking her pills, it made her feel like another cog in the machine, but it was better than having her mom tapping her foot by the door with the pills in her palm like a treat for a dog.

[b]“[color=D6BEE1]The doctor says I should get some Vitamin D, Puppy.[/color]”[/b] Millie Jean murmurs to one of her cats, purring against her leg. From the bed, Pepper watched on in that cynical way of hers – Millie Jean sometimes wonders if Pepper thinks Millie is as pathetic as Millie knows herself to be. [b]“[color=D6BEE1]Would you like to go on a drive, Puppy?[/color]”[/b]

Puppy meowed in response, recognizing the word ‘drive’ amongst all the other nonsensical things. Pepper’s tail began to thump agitatedly on the bed, indignation radiating towards Millie Jean. 

[b]“[color=D6BEE1]I’m sorry, Pep, do you want to come, too?[/color]”[/b] Pepper jumped off the bed and padded towards the door to look for her leash. It was at moments like these that Millie really questioned if her cats could understand her or if it was just a trained response from when they were kittens. Millie Jean liked to think they understood her; that they were there to comfort her for when she was sad and despondent.

[b]“[color=D6BEE1]Let’s run along, Puppy.[/color]”[/b][/indent][/color]