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A/N: Jack's unconscious thoughts will be ~Italicized~. I get these unwanted thoughts sometime because of my anxiety and I wanted to work them into the story.

Jack goes on to his YouTube channel to see what his viewer are saying about his vlog he posted yesterday. The comment section was filled will nasty comments about how he deserves it and that people hope his channel gets taken down. Several comments littered with the words Go Kill Yourself.

"I can't believe this. Why is everyone suddenly so mean to me? What did I do?"

Jack feels really down.

I really don't want to do anything today. If they don't like the videos then maybe I should rethink my format. But what could I do differently? I should as Mark what he thinks.

Jack gets to his computer desk and loads up Skype. He presses the call button and waits for Mark to respond. No answer.

He must be recording now. He always turns off Skype when he's recording. I'll just leave him a text to call me on Skype when he can.

Jack wrote out the text and sent it to Mark, the only person he had regular contact with. (He doesn't have a girl friend in this story.)

~He doesn't care about you.~

I feel terrible. Why is this happening to me? Should I just go ahead and upload that Happy Wheels video?

Jack thought about it and decided that it was better than doing nothing at all.

~Everyone hates you. Just give up.~

He uploaded the video even when he knew in his heart that no one was going to like it. He noticed a steep decline in subscribers. People have begun to unsubscribe. Jack noticed that there was an email from YouTube.

"Oh, thank sweet Jezus! They must have reviewed my strike."

He opened the email and read:
We regret to inform you that you have broken our terms of service agreement. As of X/XX/XX (date) you have accumulated 2 strikes. If you get one more strike, you will have your channel removed and will be band from creating any more videos.

"Are you fooking kidding me!? They just sent me the same freaking email!" Does this mean that they aren't going to remove the strike?

~Nothing matters anymore.~

Jack felt tears building in his eyes as his reality began to crumple at his feet. He slumped out of his chair and backed up into the wall. He brought his knees to his chest as he began to full on weep.

~It's over. Everything you've worked for. Gone.~

Jack stayed in the corner of his room crying for hours. After the first couple hours he just stayed still, starting at his feet as tears trickled down his face. Then he heard a buzzing sound. It was Skype. Jack looked up, contemplating whether or not to answer. He slowly got up from his floor and got into his chair. He wiped his face and opened the call.

 He wiped his face and opened the call

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