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You can't do anything. You can't do anything to change this. You can't help and you cannot run. How useless.
You.
You are so useless. You move, yet you do not think. You breath, yet your heart does not pulse.
Well, at least, not like it used to.
You hold no purpose really. You offer a hand. But really, are you kind? Are you trustworthy? Is it out of obligation? Is it out of pity? Is it out of disgust of seeing other creatures worse off than you?
How vile. You want to be low all the time. You do it for the empathy of others don't you, you filthy, foul, nauseating monster. You're not even human.
It's been a while since you have felt human.
How do you sleep at night, how do rest, how do you wake up knowing that you fool those around you with a cheap, fragmented facade?
One day they will find out. They will find out they befriended a devil, an utter waste of space that should no longer be living in this world.
You should of died a long time ago. You should have been deemed "no longer living" a long time ago.
They will expose you. They will shun you. They will kill you. Most likely even worse, it's what you deserve after all. You have deceived them for far too long, you wretched demon.
Shockingly, when you wake, you still feel the need to eat and drink, to indulge in such things is utterly repulsive, you being the horrible person that you are. Why haven't you starved yourself yet? Why haven't you left yourself to rot?
You.
You claim you are alone, a tainted, traumatised soul that was brutally failed and discarded by the world. Lies. You lie too often. You lie to yourself. You lie to others. You lie so much that you start believing your own lies. You lie so much that you tell others your lies and cannot tell that they weren't true.
Sickening. Disgraceful.
How are you able to look at them in the eye? How are you able to hang out without them? You claim the world failed you, but truly, you have failed the world. You choose to stay trapped within a cage. You hide.
You cannot face anyone. And you will never face anyone.
Wicked, evil soul.
You are evil.
You are evil to the core. Nothing could cleanse you. Because badness runs through your veins. You cannot run away from it. Not like you would try. You would much rather sit idly, waiting for someone to save you from your self-imposed hell.
You wait for a hero.
Weak. That's what you are. If you cannot save yourself from suffering, what makes you think you can save others? You are downright disgusting for thinking someone as corrupted and sinful as you could be saved.
You.
One day, you will wake up.
You will wake up, and you will die.
And the world will breathe once more.
It will rejoice.
It will rejoice at the removal of its greatest mistake.
Medkit shot awake. It was the middle of the night. There were no stars in the sky, and the moon was fully obscured. A bad dream. Those had gotten more common lately, in addtion to more daily intrusive thoughts and breakdowns and panic attacks when arriving home.
He was caked in sweat. It clung to him. He was uncomfortable. He wanted to leave. He wanted to get out of this bed. It was far too warm. He felt dead. Was he dead? He was not too sure.
This was never going to end, was it? It is what it is. What could he do about?
No one. Nothing. Nobody. No help. Nowhere. Never. No escape.
It is what it is.
He held his breath and shut his eyes.
There was nothing he could do about this, time continued to pass, slipping through his fingers and making him feel insurmountable dread.
Nothing he could do but wait.
Well, that is what he'd been doing his entire life.
What else could he do?