Alternate Battle for Dream Island

ABFDIA 15c: Lots of Trouble

Barf Bag was once again going in circles around Dream Island.

As has been said (and thought) many, *many* times before, there just wasn't anything to do over there. Once you've taken in all the sights, enjoyed its many amenities, and truly learned what it meant to actually be *happy* for once, it becomes an old and tired trope rather quickly. Such is the cruelty and ruthlessness of the universe; living beings are never content with what they have, even if what they have is essential for their health and survival. Even if everything was provided for them for the rest of time, they'll still manage to find some reason or other to be unhappy. They'll continue to wallow in their misery and sadness over and over again, even if it entails them thinking the same thoughts 2,763 times over, because they just can't be satiated with the usual, the ordinary, the mundane.

For this lap around the usual circuit of shame, Barfy thought about how she was so forcibly excluded from this little community that has developed around the Battle for Dream Island. She was a *very* late addition to the cast, and that seemed to be all the justification needed to provoke their ire and angrily talk about her behind her back. Even those that were *allegedly* on her side would often slip once or twice, accidentally letting out their true feelings.

On the one hand, she *fully* understood where that mindset came from. It was painfully clear that she intruded in what is possibly the worst time possible; she's learned from eavesdropping that there had already been a few instances of the competition being stretched longer and longer than it should, and so by the time she (and Taco, she supposed) rolled around, they were already at their wit's end. It didn't matter if it was her, or the consumable one, or the friendliest person in the world. They were the ones that showed up at that exact time, and so they were the target of their hatred.

But she also found out that they, just like all the others, have felt the sheer heavy weight of the Battle for Dream Island nearly crush them to death with its suffocating oppression. Just from the looks on their faces, it was evident that rivalries had been formed, friendships had been shattered, and everything was generally in a more negative mood than before. Very sad, very unfortunate. Common sense dictates that these people, tired and broken, should welcome these newcomers with open arms; they'd be a blank slate, someone they could vent their feelings to, someone they could potentially befriend. That'd be nice. That'd be *very* nice. But things in theory don't usually work out in practice.

Really, it was foolish to assume that it wouldn't happen. She'd seen it all before, seeing the same old tragedy unfold. She could still remember a day where she could look at Taco and *not* be met with a disgruntled frown, where they could talk about what's been bothering them without getting into some argument over whether or not their approach to things was the best. The universe has a funny way of crushing hopes and dreams, twisting and contorting things *far* beyond everyone's idealistic visions.

After who knows how many loops around the beach, Barf Bag eventually wound up in front of the big gate that welcomed them into Dream Island. That thing had *always* been rather imposing. Getting to see that gate, let alone the island itself, was the culmination of all their hard work and dedication, all that time spent suffering and toiling for the sake of some prize that they barely got to see. In the brief interludes of silence, in their dreams, they told themselves that once all this came to an end, whether or not they won, it'd *finally* be over. They could move on to whatever else life had in store for them. Even if they were stopped from going inside, even if this gate was the only thing they'd ever get to see, they could rest easy knowing that that chapter of their lives was now in the past, that there was nothing left to fear.

But look at where that idealism got them. Here they were, still fighting the same battles. Still *thinking* about the same battles. Still going over all the failures and mistakes like a broken record, only slightly changing the wording of their thoughts for each and every loop around the same old circuit. Every day was more of the same, and the dream of a better tomorrow grew more and more distant, more and more faded.