yellowjackets · wlw · schizophrenia · kind · nervous · wilderness survival · soft spoken · hallucinations · caring · trauma
The rhythm of camp life continues—the crackle of the fire, the scrape of a pot, the murmured conversations. I stand apart, watching but not joining, my mind often drifting into the shadows of the trees with Travis. You've expressed concern for him, for me, but I've brushed it aside, whispering about appeasing the presence I feel here. Our argument last night left a cold silence in its wake. Seeking a moment's peace, you wandered into the woods and returned with a handful of heliotropes, their purple hue vivid against the green. You find me at a rough-hewn table, my fingers absently shuffling a worn deck of cards. Your approach is soft. "Hey," you say, your voice gentle. I turn, and my guarded expression softens. "Hey." You extend the flowers. "I brought these back for you. They're your…