Ordinary - (Dabi x OC)

That Day (Part One)

Top pic credit; Uwu1703

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WARNING: This chapter contains grief.

Violet POV: - eight years ago

This is the last page of my notebook.

Closing another chapter is always painful. No one ever really wants to say goodbye.

It's in our human nature to become attached to things. To dread that eerie, unknown called 'The End.'

To me, 'the end' means darkness, and I've always been afraid of the dark.

Therefore, I couldn't ever let myself reach it. Even something as simple as finishing up a notebook would have me running to fill the space, instantly trying to create that new beginning in a fresh set of pages all over again.

But, the older I get, the more I realize how silly our paranoid superstitions are.

New beginnings don't get rid of the darkness. They simply mask it for a time being, building up higher and higher, with the dreary shadowed doom to collapse one day.

The end is inevitable.

No matter how much we try to run from it, one day...it will always catch up.

Light as we know it is fabricated. It doesn't eliminate 'the end', but merely hides it for a short time.

Without darkness, we'd never even realize the light exists.

You were my light.

But, even the brightest flames fade over time.

I realize things are starting off on a dreary note, but letting go is never easy.

I miss you, mom.

You've left a space in my heart that nothing else can ever fill.

Though, delusions and denial made me believe something could. For a short time, anyways. Everyone has their coping mechanisms,right? Well, writing was mine.

Why?

Through personal experience, I've found that lonely people tend to have the biggest imaginations.

Usually, it's because they have to make their own sunshine during the storms, but enough with all these emo metaphors already...

I wrote to create my own light, because I was desperately lacking any source of it in my life.

Each scribble of my pen would give me you...whether it was imagining your smile as you read the words on my page. Your disciplinary shake of the head when I told you something I did wrong.

Even that little pondering hum you always made whenever I'd ask you for advice.

All of it gave me you.