Whyamiwriting Stories

Everyone believes they are living, until they start dying. At what point do you change? Alita was my rock in a raging river. If I held on tightly enough, I would never drown. Then my fingers started slipping and my rock started to break. My sister left. And I started dying. DISCLAIMER: THIS STORY HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH PLOP TARTS OR POP TARTS AT ALL AS OF YET, NOR WILL IT EVER, MOST LIKELY. AND NO ONE HAS DIED YET SO THAT'S MISLEADING AS WELL. I ASSURE YOU, THE TITLE WILL MAKE SENSE EVENTUALLY. Please Critique!!! -QuadriNarShark

You were just getting a breath of fresh air on the roof of your apartment at night to calm down after taking your exams when suddenly someone on a different roof yells out to you. They run over and greet you and you see there are actually four people but they don't quite look like... People? Warnings!! No smut, I can't write it even if I wanted to Swears, probably Kind of an Oc x cannon? Well Y/n is based off my ROTTMNT oc so I guess Might have harsh topics but idk

An endless cycle. Will it ever end?