Category: Purpled Angst
TW: suicide / mentions of death / pills
Purpled's POV
The charcoal on my wooden pencil wrote on the sugar paper, the only kind of paper I could find. It was a peaceful and breezy night. I sat on the porch of my house admiring the sky, thinking of what I should write. The lantern beside me made the scenery so nostalgic for some reason. I took a deep breath and wrote what ever my hand decided to.
'Life's great.
Life has been fun and happy for once.
But why do I feel so empty?
Like i'm missing something?
I would look at all my noticeable old scars and
felt like adding more for no reason at all.
Maybe i'm an addict.
Maybe I'm addicted to the bitter sweet embrace
of all the memories of misery and distress.
Maybe I'm addicted to feeling something so heavy and
burdening?
Everyone has seemed to have moved on.
Why can't I move on?
Why can't I just allow myself to be happy?
I would laugh and smile when I'm around my friends
but never have I felt content, just pure emptiness.
Is this what it feels like to fake a laugh?
But I never faked anything, it just comes right out of my mouth.
I can't seem to laugh the way Ranboo does, 'til
his tears burned his own skin but he was joyful. I
can't seem to laugh the way Tubbo does, 'til he's
on the ground clutching his sore stomach. I can't
seem to laugh like Tommy, who wheezes at everything and
anything.
I want to feel something and I have been thinking
about ways to do it and i've only came to the conclusion that
the thrill of death seconds away from me, felt nice.
Maybe that's what happens when a child had became
one of the greatest warriors out there.
But I don't know.
I don't know if i'm just used to being at
war at all times or if i'm craving
YOU ARE READING
DREAM SMP ONESHOTS
Fanfictionmostly karlnapity stories cuz I cant get enough of them. And angst because I do not have the ability to create happy stuff Before we get on with this... Everything is fiction and is not real. And the stories aren't canonical and ideas are just simpl...
