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Blockbuster breathed in the night sky. The stars twinkled in the distance, reflecting off of Blockbuster's tears. He lazily plopped down onto the ground, spilling some of the rum in the bottle he had onto the grass. He took a swig, hiccuping into the thick liquid. The smell of pure vanilla filled the air, stinging BB's nose. He ran his hand through his hair, biting his lip as his chest heaved, a shaky sob escaping his body.
"H-heh. Heh heh."
He fell onto his back, staring at the stars as a waterfall flooded from his eyes. The glass bottle was empty now, his body felt so warm. Everything was so, so fuzzy. No one was ever going to love him, he knew that. He just thought... Maybe this one time. Maybe once he would find someone that appreciated him. But no. He quietly laughed into the darkness. He was so fucking foolish.
Blockbuster didn't even fucking mean to make those god-damned dolls. They just appeared into thin air somehow. This world was so fucking weird. And of fucking COURSE Goodwill had to find them. And he... he looked so fucking uncomfortable. Blockbuster choked. All he does is make others feel bad because he's SELFISH. Blockbuster is so fucking selfish.
He shook his head and balled up, tightly hugging himself. He couldn't stop crying. He has never felt so fucking bad. He wanted to die right then and there. It was all too much, he was becoming too loud. What if someone heard him? They would tell everyone else. He would get made fun of. Blockbuster chomped down on his arm to shut himself up. Blood trickled down onto the grass.
He stopped and laid down on his back. His eyes were becoming heavy. He felt so dizzy. Just a nap. That might make him feel better.