Over and Over

Over and over.

You've dragged me through hell once more.

Once again, you've pulled me into my oblivion. The abyss of infinity that threatens to consume me- for over and over, you've done this. Extended my life beyond natural reason, beyond what is comprehensible.

You've made me what I never wanted to become.

(He wasn't meant to be this way.)

Over and over and over.

I feel so old, and yet, I'm still 18. Physically, I'm forever eternal, inescapably unending. But my mind is still human. 

I should have died long ago. Painfully long ago. You created this duality, and you drag it on and on and on.

(He was two beings conjoined as one. Half of him was never supposed to exist.)

Over and over and over and over.

My features are the same as they've ever been, yet my friends (do I even consider them so anymore?) have seen my eyes grow older and older, colder and colder, less and less human. Like weathered stone.

It breaks them too. But not as much as it breaks me.

Over and over and over and over and over.

Does it not tire you? Seeing the same thing again and again? You stated you were here for your entertainment. Isn't it getting boring? Dull?

Because it is for me. I'm not suffering like you wanted me to. Not anymore. I'm done. Broken. You can't crush me further. And yet you have.

Overandoverandoverandoverandoverandover.

I can feel the broken rubble of what's left of me fade into ash. And even that has begun to crumble into dust. Soon enough I'll be gone.

But that's what you want, isn't it?

Otherwise, I wouldn't be here. You'd toss me away like the other puppets you call your OCs and crossovers.

Overandoverandoverandoverandoverandoverandover.

I hear Natsu passing by. He asks me if I'm ok.

He asks me that every loop, every time.

I don't respond. I don't need to. He'll just ask again.

He looks sad. Saddened by my eyes, by my expression, which I can only guess is either haunted or empty. Both, probably.

Overandoverandoverandoverandoverandoverandoverandover.

Gray doesn't say anything to me. He rarely does. He only seems to worry about those who still have hope, who still want to live. Those who aren't entirely hopeless.

He senses that I've given up. That I'm done. Ghosts do that.

Overandoverandoverandoverandoverandoverandoverandoverandover.

Are you proud? Proud of what you've done? Proud of the agony you put us through? You should be. You attained your goal. You've broken me so badly I don't care enough to stand anymore.

I often die early for that reason. Then the loop restarts.

Overandoverandoverandoverandoverandoverandoverandoverandoverandover.

Why do you do this? Why do you torture us like this?

Oh yeah. It's entertaining to you. I can't imagine what kind of person you are- a sadistic self-important fool who feeds off suffering.