Dream SMP Oneshots

Oh But Your Words (They Really Kill Me) 😥-Karlnapity

TW: Suicide, heavy angst, memory loss, major character death! Read with caution.(More mega angst!) Once again, if you ever feel alone, just know you aren't and things do get better, even if it takes what seems like ages, they will get better <3

Karls POV

The day everything had gone wrong, he should have known. It had been pouring rain, clouds overshadowing even the slightest glimpse of sunlight. Rain had kissed his cheeks, masking his tears as they blended into nature's way of weeping. He should have known. Their relationship always seemed to be a blurred and muddy mess of hypotheticals or should've dones. Nothing had been easy. That day the kingdom had laid dead silent other than the rustling of leaves and once-comforting splash of each individual raindrop that had thundered against the ground. Every spark or lightning up in the distance couldn't predict the crashing force of a pent up argument that was about to spew over like lava. Nobody had noticed how he had been crying for so much longer, face simply stoic as tears trailed down his face at the tension on their walk. The pavement on the pathway ws cracked and had 264 pebbles counted that day, no doubt hundreds more, thousands, if he had had the chance to keep counting. That day had been the day he found himself about to collapse and cry. To fold in upon himself in a swell of remorse. After trying so hard to just keep people happy, he realised it was time to fold the crappy cards he had been dealt. In a deck of cards, he was the joker- not because he was funny- but because people pass him up the moment they can, they only use him for a free pass. A free friendship to throw away when they felt like it, to dispose of him and his weeping heart. That day everyone's features had been duleld with a sad hue, one that he found everyone else having shed except him.

Karl was once considered a bubbly, joyous figure- he had been told he used to radiate a warm purplish pink. Now, whenever he looked at himself in a mirror or puddle, he could see the tone that fogged up his vision, a dark and grey navy blue. It had a tinge of forest green to it as well. Karls once bright shimmering light had simmered down to a muse of lonesome. He'd been locking himself in the attic of his library for a few days now- maybe weeks? He hardly left in months. George had pleaded with him to come out every once and a while, he had even slaughtered an Enderman for an ender pearl to get up here when Karl had disbanded the ladder. Everytime he was met with the same annoyed and agitated facade that left one or both of them in tears in concern for the other.

You should be looking after yourself, not me.

You should be looking after yourself, period!

That was his weak point, he never recognized how hurting himself had hurt others, how it continues to hurt others. And honestly, if he could see it, he couldn't bring himself to care. Quackity surely didn't. Sapnap had tried, but eventually had torn the strings that Karl had desperately been trying to hold on to. The only person who persisted by his side was the same one everyone claimed to be selfish, ignorant. George never left him, always bringing him food even after months of neglect to their relationship. George never seemed to mind the random days Karl would try to act like everything was normal, when George was awake that is. Maybe they got along so well because they never knew who to trust, and they were the only people the other could hold onto. The only thing that remained normal. Of course nothing about them was normal, Karl couldn't remember and George couldn't stay awake.

Has anyone ever told you how scary it is to lose your memory?

For him, it felt like he was in a dissociation a lot of the time. It felt like he was pounding on a wall in a pitch black room with pitch black walls he can only find by running so fast and so far he rams into them.It was almost like you were stuck inside yourself, trying to communicate with your outside self of a memory that to you was a blurry figure. It was so close, yet no matter what you could never figure it out. Your dreams become contaminated with lost memories you still question. You never know what you did or what you should do, because the purpose for you is simply gone. Everything is gone. It's like you are trying to touch a memory, but at the graze of your fingers it disassembles into bts of ash like rotten paper. It's almost like you try to remember your childhood best friend's face, but it's blurred out. Similar to you trying to get google to recognize a song through only humming. He tried to remember that one day, and it was so fogged over yet all so clear through words. He couldn't picture it, but boy could he tell the tale.