𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐓 FREE ✦ ₐₗₜₑᵣₙₐₜᵢᵥₑ ᵤₙᵢᵥₑᵣₛₑₛ

Desires of a Soul

He wishes he could be free,
That drea..m remains undone, there is still hope.

Tommy thinks it's unnatural, of how a peaceful server like the DreamSMP would turn into a disaster of a hellhole, of course, like all would say, He started it after all.
He highly disagreed about it when Dream first mentioned it in the prison, then, time went on, he. Solely gave up and agreed.

He didn't, really, It was just his bold and obnoxious personality trope that got the best of him. He didn't mean to ruin everyone's lives in all sorts of sick, sinister ways, as Dream phrases it. He hates him, it was a clear statement, but he can't understand why they thought of Dream like he gave them happiness or something.

Not to mention, everyone seemed to silently agree to not interact with him whatsoever, and it was something that itched Tommy's heart. It wasn't like he could blame them, they went through the most in the past 3 years already. It was his job, his job to make his friends happy, it was Dreams fault for the war. It wasn't Wilbur and Him, never.

But, he can't understand anymore, because now, Wilbur seemed to wrench in Dream's manipulation. He made fun of Tommy, taking him down a peg or four.
It's like he was allergic to happiness, you know? Because anything he joins in, it's like he causes souls to suffer.

He knows it isn't like that, he knows it's reasonable that it's himself to blame for every misfortune in the server, he knows everyone despises him, despite he made it clear that he changed his obnoxious ways. He hated how he smiles.

He changed himself for everyone to be happy, he stopped interacting to anyone within his range, he stopped visiting everyone and seeing how they were doing despite they'd shout at him to leave them alone, he quit going to the different kingdoms and greeting their townsfolk, it went on.

To the point he stitched his mouth close because who would care to listen to him anyway? Wasn't he just the useless marionette that everyone left to rot in the dust? He quit talking, he quit singing, he quit eating, he quit everything he loved to do. He never left his bed. But, he never quit hygiene, of course, he was big man tommyinnit after all, ye'?

He quit journaling because what's the point of journaling if nobody gave a single shit about you in the first place? Truthfully, he understands that death isn't just a craving he'd been hungry for a while, it was a desire. A desire to leave this wrecked place once and for all.

He watches a spider crawl up his bed, reminding him of a child he lost. He hates spiders. He hates them. He hates them.

He forgot everyone's names, he only spent his time watching the compass that had a scratched marking of 'your tubbo' until it eventually stopped fully functioning. He doesn't remember who Tubbo is, only glitched out faces of people once in a while as he sleeps.

His dreams were nothing but an inky hell, just the surrounding of pure blackness, just like the limbo he once experienced when he still felt hope, of course that also drained out too, because he has nothing else. No one else either.

The only face he fully remember were Dreams', his abuser, who was probably stuck in another unbreakable prison once again. He can't remember who operated the last prison, he only remembers that they eventually grew corrupt as well and it resulted in him dying...

.... Wonder... . Tommy's..... I...... Haven't..... ...Went... .... Out...side... Ye... t

He pauses, scrunching his nose in fear, he heard talking, actual talking,coming from an actual human being, holy shit. Then, he remembers, it could be Dream, but, it can't be. Dream's voice had a monotonous undertone.
The person talking was surely a chatterbox, he could tell. He could make out a few words, his hearing sucks ass, currently.