Tw: Derealization - Blog Posts
So it turns out that falling from a great height doesn't really go well if you're made out of porcelain. Who knew
Inktober Day 14: Empty
A technical Part 2
Part 1
Part 2 [Here]
Ruler of everything
HEAVY TW WARNING FOR SU1CID3, SH, RELIGIOUS TRAUMA ETC. THIS IS A VENT. YOU HAVE BEEN ADVISED.
Uh…? Where am I…? Is this… heaven?
Yes, *irl name*.
Oh, hi. We meet again
This is the third time
Did I manage to get here?
Oh, oh no.
Why…?
I think you already know the answer. You never made anyone proud. You were an annoying spoiled little brat. You managed to make your girlfriend hate you. And then, you killed yourself *irl name*
Oh…
Is it all you gonna say? You’re really just a little bitch. Why are you crying now?
I’m sorry…
Apologising can’t let you far right now.
Sorry…
You were always like this. Apologising cause you didn’t know how to be forgiven. A real idiot
…
Now come in, I’ll have to bandage your wrists. They are ruining the floor.
Thanks. Everyone, for anything. Goodbye ❤️
TW!
Hey!
…
Hey…!
What?
Are you an Angel?
Yes, why?
Can you talk to God? Have I been a good kid?
No, you were an awful and useless child {IRL name}. You were an annoying waste of space.
Oh… do I talk too much…? Even for Andrea…?
You could start by shutting your mouth, yeah.
I see… sorry mr. Angel…
…
…
…
Do you like dinosaurs?
I guess we could work on that.
TRIGGER WARNING
Hey.
Hey.
What about them?
Who?
Them.
Oh, they are ok.
Really?
They seem so happy…
Without you, right?
Yes.
…
…
Maybe you’re right, you’re just a misfortune
Maybe, yes.
They are happier without you. You should really just disappear.
Maybe.
Maybe.
…
…
You don’t do anything useful to anyone, let alone them. You deserved every single of those scars on your wrist. Every pain you had. You’re just a spoiled little brat.
Yes. It’s better if I go now though, I have an appointment.
Really? Good luck.
Bye.
Bye.
i am afraid if i vanish no one will remember my smell. who will know my favorite candle, who will bury themselves in vanilla in a scent of grief. i am afraid in ten, twenty, 50 years time, i will have not been. who was i, who are we to be so easily forgotten