Oleanders Are Supposed To Bloom In Summer

2.4. Love to not Be

Wednesday

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Love to not be

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Orange blended with the yellow as it flowed around her, its thick glop tugging at her legs. The emotions flowed freely from her pores, appearing from the wind, and engulfing Sarin with its grip. The uncertainty was a tangeled knot preventing her from moving, but the joy was steady, keeping her upright.

The stream had gone well, Sarin recalled. She had played minecraft for well over three hours, and it was getting late. Sarin had died a total of five times, and had made 5 new hardcore worlds, none of which still exsisted. She had peaked her viewership at around 430 people, but the best part was that one of them was almost certainly Ranboo. She didn't understand how anyone could hate the tall fluffy haired white boy.

Isn't that the same phrase she used to describe Mark? Then again, it wasn't particularly incorrect. In fact, Sarin noted that the two had extremely similar hair. More rationaly, though, it was just a coincidence.

Sarin whipped out a notepad, grabbing the pages from the wind and combining them with barely a thought. She wouldn't remember anything she wrote down, but she could atleast say she took mental notes.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□
Similarities between Mark and Ranboo:

■ tall fluffy haired white boy
■ apparently watches my streams
■ in highschool
■

Differences between Mark and Ranboo:

■ Mark is my friend
□ Ranboo is a potential (business) partner is streaming a business oh god do I have to report my earnings to the IRS oh my god am I committing tax fraud oh what the fuck wait no one has even donated me anything I think i'm fine right?
■ Mark doesn't know what I am
□ Ranboo doesn't know who I am
■ Mark has definitely never done drugs before
□ Tommy and Tubbo probably convinced Ranboo to do drugs at some point
■ Mark probably has at least has one bitch
□ Ranboo gets bitches
■

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□

Finally leaving her notepad to vanish into oblivion, Sarin got up to go wonder around. The gripping orange was nowhere to be found, instead pools of light yellow and lavender blue circled around. It looked like an abstract art piece, with a background of infinitely flowing flower forests all smeared with happiness and calm.

Sarin walked around until she reached a smooth lake, looking like it could be made of glass. She tossed a small rock onto the surface, skipping it and shattering the glass illusion.

Thoughts moved quickly beneath the disrupted surface, flashing quickly in and out of view like fish. They were ideas not even half thought out, what could have been said, what should have been said, the involuntary flick of a finger, the the pulsating beat of a heart. The lake was alive with motion, possibility for anything, yet at the same time it was empty, waiting for something else to do, to think, to repeat over and over spinning into endless possibilities.

Sarin thought, as she stared out over the restless lake, that no one elses mind had a storm ridden lake, it was calm and tranquil. They would not be able to break the glass that was, in Sarin's mind, preemptively cracked.

It was beside the point though, she thought as she got up. Anxiety and ADHD would never call for a peaceful lake.

Her mind was a constant mix of bright red and black ivory, a thick orange or yellow bubbles. The stories never featured too much of one or another, Sarin's worlds oftentimes contained horrible atrocities happening to her, a justification for the trauma the characters suffered. Her life had always been good, besides the bullying. So where did these utterly fucked up things come from. It had always been a mystery.

Stories of kidnapping involved blinding white fear upon meeting her captor, a daring escape, and finally, a horrible ending with gruesome death. Restart. It was someone she had known before, now. She succeeds in the escape, her captor chases her down, trying to find her desperately for years after. The captor is killed by her, she learned how to defend herself, and swordfight, of course. Again.

On and on, hours of time wasted away in these horrid fantasies, twisted things being played on repeat, not ending until Sarin was bored of it.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Sarin shot up as a loud clap of lightning sounded outside. She could feel her heart racing and she got up to pace around her room. Everything was going to be okay, and the storm wouldn't hurt her. Sarin repeated the words over and over to herself, a pitiful atempt to calm herself down. Walking over to her laptop, Sain pulled up one of Ranboo's old VOD's. She could feel herself calming down with every word he said.

"Alright," He said. "Ushshhsokay, sorry, sorry about that one," He narrated over the screen of the goat simulator playing.

He let out a breath of laughter before speaking again. "Is that my- is that my ability?"

Sarin watched him play Goat Simulator for approximately an hour, lying to herself that she would finish watching it later. Getting out of better, she looked outside her window to the endless rain outside. At least the thunder had stopped. God, she wished she could just live in her daydreams forever, it would be amazing to just not exsist anymore. If she could just not Be anymore.

A/N: I have decided to stop giving a fuck about my word count. Accept it or leave.