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Log 001 d/m/y
I'm back but It doesn't feel like it.
Nothing feels right
I'm numb in all sense of the word
I couldn't breath coughing up maggots and feeling my body sew itself back together
Unfamiliar scars from the toll time took on my body
I wasn't burried properly. Left behind, under the rubble
I don't want to go back but at the same time a part of me aches to not be here.
Tommy hasn't looked me in the eye. And if by chance I catch him staring he quickly looks away. He looks like a kicked puppy, the confusion and distant hurt.
I'd focus on the posititves but. It's hard to find any.
Well, maybe one. That note you left. I don't know why I'm writing this like you'll read it someday. Maybe it just helps. Makes me feel like someone actually cared... I don't know.
I just keep rereading it..
Did you miss me? Did you care when I left, did it hurt?
I guess maybe apart of me hopes it did. Hurt. Leave you with an empty space that I used to occupy. Maybe I'm just reading too far into it, trying to latch onto any emotion you may feel for me, or had felt in my absence.
Do you still think of me? Did I really matter to you?
Log 002 d/m/y
I can't sleep.
No matter what I do.
Everytime I close my eyes I'm back there.
I may of been revived but I didn't really come back. I don't feel alive. I can't feel my pulse. My skin is cold and my eyes are glossed over and sunken. God I look sickly. I'm a wreck.
I need something, anything. To occupy myself, a distraction. Smoking isn't cutting it anymore. I need something more..
Talking to you again.. it made me feel more. Real. Like I was actually present. Alive. It was... grounding to stand next to you again. God I need a smoke, my lighters running out
Log 007 d/m/y
I can't stop. God my head is reeling I feel so goddamn sick. I think I might vomit.
I don't know if it was the drinks or the dehydration. Probably both.
I'll have Ran take over the van for the day. I don't think I can drag myself out tomorow.
I'll crash at Phil's. I don't need Ran to know I've been sleeping in the van.
Log 009 d/m/y
I'm weak. Everyone can tell, it just takes one glance at me to see how frail I've become. I've somehow even managed to get pitying looks from some people.
Phil says I should really apologize to people, to try to at least. And if they don't accept my apology that I should just leave them alone. I just don't know where to start..
I've hurt too so many people.
Log 012 d/m/y
I can't stop thinking of you. The way your hair falls against your shoulders, the way your wings react alongside your emotions. The scar across your face. Everything new and different but it's the same you.. somewhere under all the glitter and fancy suits your still the you I left. That's not to say you haven't changed. But I know deep down this is all to cover up the hurt. I remember those eyes, they say everything. the same sad look in them. It's unmistakable. I'm not one to talk though. About change. If anything I've barely changed at all. All I've done is gotten weaker and more dependent on others, leeching off them trying to feel secondhand emotions.
Log 016 d/m/y
I don't know what that ghost did but everyone seemed to like him a lot more than me. Tommy won't stop talking about him. Everytime I don't agree with him I'll hear him mutter.
"Ghostbur would've liked my idea.."
Fuck. Fuck all of this I'm out of smokes I'm going for a walk
Log 017 d/m/y
What the fuck. That did not just happen. What was that. I was dreaming or something that couldn't have happened.
To think that maybe you did care, that maybe it did hurt you when I left. That you even care now..
I think maybe I'll take another walk along the Las Nevadas border again. Borrow another cigarette or two. Pretend I lost the pack you gave me... maybe that's too desperate.
You just make me feel so alive I can't stop thinking about it.
Your hands on mine, touch more tender than it should be on someone you consider your enemy.
Skimming over the cigarette burns and bruises.
I need to just go to bed this is all too much for me
Log 023 d/m/y
Everyday I just start to feel a little worse. I feel like I'm still rotting, my insides decaying and starting to fail me. My hands shake more frequently and it feels harder to get up. Phil already looks at me like I'm fragile. That guilty look. Like I'm going to break at any second. I guess I can't really blame him can I. When I broke apart at his feet begging him to kill me.
God this is pathetic I can barely even write this I dont even have the strength to grip a pen
Log 027 d/m/y
I can't keep doing this. I really am getting worse. I'm becoming more irritable, everytime I raise my voice even slightly tommy looks more and more hurt.
I really need to apologi
Tomorrow I'm talking to fundy. I know I wasn't the best father.
Log 030 d/m/y
Tommy keeps trying to cheer me up. Distract me. I have work to do.
Log 043 d/m/y
I don't know why Phil gave me this fucking journal
"it'll help to write your feelings down"
All its done is make me feel more fucking pathetic. If i wanted to face how much of a waste I am I wouldn't have broken all my mirrors.
God no wonder schlatt turned into an alcoholic. Cigarettes can only numb so much
Log 057
Tom is out with tubbo and ran.
Quackity is busy as usual. I can hardly get ahold of him anymore.
I just.. fuck it's not like anyone will read this thing. I don't want to be alone I can't..
God it's pathetic how easily I break down. I've been by myself for just a few hours and I'm already shaking and heaving.
My ears are ringing and my head is spinning
My hair is sticking to my face and my sheets are drenched in sweat but I just can't bring myself to move I'm numb
A corpse impersonating a living being
Log 063
I've lost track of the days. I don't know how many days I've lost. The days I'm not there. Where I'm nothing.
Where's the point where I'm too far gone to even resemble a person. How long can I keep up this act, convincing people I'm alive. That this is all real.
When do people start to recognize me for what I am. Just a corpse playing pretend.
I wonder. What if I just went back to the rubble of my grave. Lay there like I should be doing. Maybe even find where Phil stashed that sword. He says he got rid of it but I know he didn't. I recognize that look. The face of guilt and admission. The pity in his eyes. He's lying.
Log 070
I was out for a walk through Las nevadas like I usually would do on a slow day but then I stumbled across Tom talking with big q. He was telling him how worried he was. How I wasn't looking well. And if my eyes aren't letting me down, I swear I saw a glint of concern in quackitys eyes.
I didn't want to stick around to hear the rest. Fear that he might say he didn't care
Log 073
Testing the limits of what I can get away with without Q screaming at me to get out of his country.
I think that new bar just opened up. I'll try to sneak in without getting caught. Shouldn't be hard though, considering the lousy staff. The only issue would be if Sam and foolish were there. But with Sam probably at the prison, I don't think I'll have any trouble getting past foolish if he even shows.
Maybe I'll even wear a clean pair of boots, wash my coat, just cause I can. But I mean it's not like im trying to impress anyone? Itd be just for me cause I want to. Yeah.
Log 074
So, on second thought. Maybe foolish was harder to get past than I thought. I may have forgotten how tall the man was and how the white streak in my hair is a dead giveaway and throws out all chances of blending in with the crowd.
So I maay have been caught and maaybe I was dragged over to quackitys office. But who's to say what happened. This is all totally a hypothetical. There may have been some yelling (not on my part) and also maybe some pushing and pulling.
Which I felt totally normal about. I felt how any other person would after their rival shouts at them and grabs them by the collar of their shirt.
I had a totally normal reaction.
Log 078
Oh god why am I gushing over him like a stupid hormonal teenager. I mean at least I'm not feeling absolutely horrible anymore. This actually made me feel better.?
So maybe I was a little bit, not so normal, but maybe he wasn't either..
I mean, is it really so bad if I indulge in a bit of shenanigans? It's better than rotting lying in bed all day.
The only downside to this is I'm proving Tommy right..
Log 082
The construction that was going on at the back of the casino has finally finished, which means quackity will host some party of sorts to promote it. Which means another chance to go and hopefully not be caught this time.
I'll try to take extra precautions this time. I may have been a bit too cocky last time.
Log 083
That went horribly. But somewhat goodish?
I don't know what started it, maybe my drink was too strong, maybe the lights were too bright, the music could've been a little too close to sounding like a train horn, there could've been a few too many people. I don't know. but every second that passed it was getting harder to see straight, feeling dizzy and lightheaded the room was getting stuffy. I must've caused a scene on my way out, tripping over my own feet and bumping into people while I was rushing out.
The details are a bit blurry but I end up in the alley beside the casino, leaning against the wall breathing heavey and shaking. Next thing I know I feel a hand on my shoulder. I flinch and look up seeing none other than quackity himself. I couldnt really make out the expression on his face, my vision too blurred. I could see him opening his mouth and I could vaguely hear his voice, but the ringing in my ears and the faint sound of train tracks made it hard to hear.
He ends up crouched down next to me, both hands on my shoulders. One hand moves to my cheek as he tries to talk to me, again I don't catch a single word he says.
I feel myself get pulled up, not expecting it plus the shakiness of my legs, causes me to stumble. I'm held up by quackity as I lean most of my weight on him, not trusting my legs. It gets a little fuzzy but I know we're walking somewhere down the Las Nevadas street, away from the casino.
My head started to clear a little. I was still not all there but I was just there enough to process the words being said to me.
I guess all the sleepless nights catch up to me cause I don't remember much beyond that point til I'm being gently shaken awake. I open my eyes slowly, processing what's going on, taking in my surroundings. I'm in an unfamiliar bed, far too expensive for me to be in, with worried eyes scanning over me. I'm handed a glass of water, him encouraging me to drink it with a voice far too gentle and soft.
I look to the side to see my coat and shoes have been set aside by the nightstand.
I look back to quackity, his hand was on my shoulder, thumb moving in a soothing swipe back an forth.
And suddenly I was feeling very parched.
After I finished the water I actually saw quackity clearly for the first time in the past how ever many hours.
His hair was slightly askew, he was wearing a baggy shirt and a pair of short shorts, the eyebags under his eyes similar to my own, and he had a soft smile on his face.
"You feeling better Wil?"
You feeling better Wil.
He spoke with all too soft a voice considering our last interaction.
When I went to speak I grimaced at the sound of it, a weak rasp. I settled on just nodding my head.
Quackity sighed, slowly removing his hand from where it was previously perched on my shoulder, only to settle on my lower thigh, a bit above my knee.
He simply asked if I can tell him what happened, still in the same gentle tone.
And clearly I make a face of some sorts cause he immediately told me I didn't have to tell him if I don't want to.
I take a breath and just tell him what I can, cause I don't even really know myself.
Of course I leave out some parts. Quackity doesn't need to know about the train station everything.
He told me I could stay at his place for the night, sounding a bit more like an order than a recommendation or invitation. But given the state quackity found me in, I can't put it against him.
So of course I stayed.
Although I'm a bit surprised when he gets under the covers himself and turns off the light, but you don't see me complaining.
I wake up the next morning to his arms wrapped around me, I could feel his breath on my neck.
And to be completely honest it was the best sleep I've had in ages.
I let myself rest in the moment a little longer before I started to try to gently shift away. I'm only starting to stand to reach for my coat and shoes before a hand was grabbing onto my arm.
Quackity was looking up at me, sleep still prevalent in his eyes.
It's clear he was confused as to where I was going.
I give him an honest answer, telling him I assumed he'd be busy and would want me gone.
He almost looks offended that I'd assume that. Next all I know is that he's getting up and dragging me over to his kitchen, pulling out a seat for me at the small table there. He ends up cooking breakfast for the both of us and it's oddly domestic, eating together in a comfortable silence.
After that quackity just tells me how he has a meeting, going over to the other room to change. I end up just following him out and we go our separate ways for the day.