The Pineapple Effect-In Progress

(Updated 8/8/26) A Dark Read For Those Who Crave Air: Him Loves Pineapples mmm… Aug 8/2 Pilot "The boy who loved pineapples a bit too much?" "Yeah, him"' "Are you sure about this?" "What, are you scared?" Dear Diary, my friend told me to text him that apples are the best fruit then quickly delete it. I told her that it would be very dangerous, but the thrill of anticipation was too much, and I folded under the bet. Quickly I texted him and deleted as by plan, everything seemed to be okay and fine. I thought momentarily that I myself was the strange one here for suspecting anything out of the ordinary would happen… Aug 8/3 The Last Day of my Sanity "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" "I, didn't know this would happen..." "Well look around you now...everything you touch, everything you meddle with, YOU MESS IT UP, all you do is hurt." "I don't think, you know exactly what I'm capable of..." Dear Diary, my country suffered severe losses in life and air when he struck. Taking no mercy to warn us of his coming. As I saw a bright flash, I briefly texted my friend my goodbyes. “Told ya he would find out because he's such a biggie that sees everything even how sad my soul is that I cannot stand the pineapples he so such loves when the pineapples attack me and I hate pineapples and then I hate that he is a pineapple lover like who likes pineapple, the tree is a pineapple, pineapple looks like that tree I saw in Hawaii, actually probably Mexico and no ones like hawaii pizza unless they wanna dieiieieieiieie.” I then covered my diary with my body. Aug 8/4 Recovery "When you look in the mirror, who do you see?" "A survivor, not a hero..." "If you see a hero, you're a monster." "There is no monster, or hero... there are simply people." "Tell me then, what are people?" "Cages of emotions." Dear Diary, I am alive, but not well. My stay at the medical building has deteriorated my mental state. Fortunately for me they allowed me to take my diary with me. I have refused to let anyone look at it for if my secret ramblings are revealed I may not survive the cold harsh winter of judgement. I am not able to write for long, too many are trying to look at my writings. Aug 8/17 Paranoia "Who do you think we should blame here?" "We shouldn't blame, just live on." "If we live on, who's to make the consequences?" "Yourself." "What?" "You either heal yourself well, or you heal yourself crooked, like skin around a broken bone left untreated. It serves as a reminder that you will never forget." "There are some people that don't heal until far too much destruction." "Then hope, hope that you don't face one of them anytime soon." After 2 weeks of recoverment I have returned to my rebuilt school. Luckily, there was no radiation, only some fires and unstable foundations. He is back, and he pretends that nothing has happened. As if he didn’t steal lives to make a point about his shabby opinion. If a simple joking text has triggered him so harshly, I doubt my diary will calm him. I am lucky to be alive, but I feel his gaze burning into my back every time I look away. I am worried though, this has made me paranoid, maybe he will realize I talk in my sleep about how much I hate pineapples. Is he a dreamwalker? I don’t know, but the possibilities are endless. Nothing is safe. Aug 8/18 Anger "Sometimes, why do we switch up so fast? Like one emotion at a time, then we lose it." "It's the human nature." "That doesn't really answer my question..." "Think of it as a safety system, an illusion of safety at least. We feel horror, maybe at our own selfs, most probably our own selfs, then we hate it. We hate the horror we feel, we wish to replace it with anything else. The substitution may be determination, or anger, sadness. It depends." "Then what causes people to snap at the end?" "When you feel confused, it probably means you've already come a long way, and you're trying to find a way out. It means you're still fighting, asking yourself, why am I like this?" "I didn't ask that." "You don't need to know what makes people lose it. You need to know how people heal." My worry has driven a chasm between my family and I. My anxiety is getting to me, I don’t talk to my family anymore, fearing that I will let something slip, and that he will find out. I am mad, angry, and sad that he did this to me. It is not my fault, right? I will have to retaliate because who likes pineapples, him for some reason, it is for the greater good of the world I must put it as my mission to release him from this reality, and put an end to his eternal suffering that otherwise would continue if I left him alone to continue to like pineapples, but really deep down he knows he doesn't like them, we must make the population pure again. I will not fail. Aug 8/19 Confusion "How do we live with our selfs?" "You look healthy." "We do so much bad, a lot more than good, yet we still live on. We are full of pain and grief, albeit all of it we still push through." "Possibly because others help you float, when they are drowning too. It makes you feel people care no matter what you do. You have to appreciate their love, you have to help them up when they fall hard. You help them by smiling, telling them you care, showing your love, living on, and pushing through." "I, never thought about that before." "For the people who don't have those life savers, for the people that push them away. They are the ones who have it worst. With nothing to anchor them, they spiral, they sink without anyone knowing, and if people notice, it's usually too late." "I live for others, and others live for me. Hm, that sounds nice." My family looks at me differently now, I don’t care. I do care, I don’t care, it’s hard to understand what I feel when I am filled with paranoia. I take deliberate steps in order to pretend everything is alright. His gaze never seems to fail to rattle me, as if the depths of his burning blue eyes will swallow me, like a raging storm that tears apart the mast and sails of my weak boat of humanity dragging me under. The teachers are unaware, or very good actors, they never stare at him for too long, and do not call on him. Does this mean they know what he did? The treason of wrecking his own country? I wonder how his family fares with this. Does he even have a family? I am torn apart by my endless string of questions. Do I still have a family? Aug 8/20 Reflection "I ask a lot of questions, what do you ever wonder about?" "Me?" "Yes you, who else?" "I wonder, about trivial things, like when I will get to meet up with my friends, or if I'll get a cupcake too." "But, you know so much. Don't you regret about the past?" "I regret a lot. We all regret, it is simply human to do so. We learn from our mistakes, we heal and we learn. Regretting too much is a burden though, it is like a weight that we are scared to lose, for if we shed it we will freeze without the warmth of it. It is an illusion though, it will drag you down and it will replace the true warmth of those you used to live for." "How do you know if you have the burden?" "You don't. Assume you always have it, and learn how to get closer to the ones you live for. It is the best protection against a monster like regret. Know that regret is only a monster though, if you let it take over." I start to look back into my past entries and try to relive the emotion I felt whilst I wrote them. I noticed that I stopped using “Dear Diary” in my entries. What does this mean? I cannot question it for too long though, I am getting frustrated, how can I end someone who has unspoken power? I must keep my safety first, and my revenge second. I know that, but sometimes I forget. My grades start to decline slowly, my family takes notice, and puts two and two together. They think I’m depressed, so they offer me a therapist, it will take from their small salary, but they “care” about me. I don’t take any interest in therapists. I am fine. Aug 8/21 Wonder "Why are all odds stacked against us?" "It depends on the way you look at it." "Every time something good happens something bad has to happen too." "It is the balance, like if you get a birthday party everyday of the year. It loses that feeling of happiness and quality. You will soon assume a birthday party is to happen, and it will rot your inside a little. Kind of like hyper inflation." "I hate the bad things." "Sometimes, you have to love them. They are not black and white, they are all grey. Counter weights are not seen as bad things in this world, they are seen as balancers that are essential. To face a bump together is to strengthen a bond." "Hm." I cannot seem to keep myself from staring at him. He is so average, so ordinary, so overlookable. Maybe that’s the whole point. How could he be unimaginably powerful? Why does he love pineapples so much? I reflect on when I first saw him when we started the year, we had an assignment to write a 500 word essay talking about your family, friends, and your dream vacation. His only words were pineapple. The teachers didn’t mention it though, his grades are high. I cannot fandom how the teachers could overlook this. I start to suspect they know a lot about his past record of destruction. My teachers are relatively closed off. I cannot find a way to talk to them about him without him taking notice. Aug 8/22 Delusions "Why do sometimes, we feel utterly alone?" "Do you?" "..." "When we side too much, when we view things from a competitioner's point of view. We start to lose the meaning of what we are playing for. Choosing a side means the other is your opponent, and you must beat them and win. Choosing an opponent means you no longer have unity. If you choose the "wrong" side, you are all alone, going against the people you love." "Don't we have to choose a side?" "I'm sure your familiar with ying and yang." "Who isn't?" "Then apply it, everything I tell you, you can drink it all up, nod your head, and say I understand. But to execute it, is showing you understand it. You always have a choice, there are not always just 2 different sides. One day, you will know that staying together will lift you higher than you determined to jump higher than your enemy" "It's kind of hard sometimes." "I'm sorry." I dive deeper into my research, looking online about past big destructions. I feel as if I am getting closer and closer. I keep a facade at school, but when I return home I confine myself in my bedroom buried by newspapers and fatigue. My parents try to confront me in my room. It quickly escalates, they yell, I yell, they cry, I do not. They tell me about how they fear for me, how they love for me. I do not understand why they are making such a fuss, it irritates me. I tell them what I told myself, I am fine. Still though they are relentless, like a pack of hounds giving chase after a misunderstood rabbit. I am the prey, they are the hunter. It is not the other way around. Aug 8/25 Accusations "Don't you sometimes feel pain when others misjudge you?" "We all feel pain when people misjudge us. It's mostly how we deal with it, when someone misjudges you sometimes it's because they care, and others when they want to hurt you. Either way, you cannot let them make you hate them. You must face their lies, and prove them, that they are mistaken It is always, so much better when you have people by your side though." "People to pick you up when you fall..." "... to drown for you, and to do it again forever." "I would drown for you... If you are facing someone that misjudges you, or hurts you I will be there for you. I will never leave your side, I will help you push through, and lift you higher than you could dream for, because you would do the same." "Know that to make a connection, sometimes you must do that for others, even though they haven't for you. Once they understand you care, they will start to care for you too. When they don't understand, it can hurt, but it's a risk we all take. And yes. I would do everything for you." I have taken a small break from you diary, but all is well. I have simply invested my time more deeply into my plots. I quickly realize that it might be best to record my thoughts instead of pushing this book away. I might as well make it worth it. While my information increases, so does my family’s doubt. They think I’m crazy. How dumb of them to assume, how dare they judge, they don’t understand anything. They know nothing. It’s not their place, and when I finally succeed in taking the beast down, they will understand, they will not judge, they will not assume. The feeling of cutting my mental ties with my family was hard, but they’ll get in the way, my senses are to judge what to do, and my family cannot inspire or sway anything of them, not anymore. Aug 8/26 Birthday Special "What do nice moments in the dark do for you?" "They light you." "Very funny." "They bring a sense of hope and rebellion against the crashing dark waves. They rise, and are the highlight of the dark place people wander into. We are all naturally drawn to look at the light in the dark, if we let it lead us on, if we give it all our attention just mindless follow, you will not see your surroundings and fall. You need to know that the light is there, but also know your ground territory, analyze the shadow realm you find yourself stranded in. Ask yourself, why am I here in the first place. Like I said, nothing is pure evil and nothing is pure good." "If we let our selfs get lead on, won't we get hurt more than if we stay away from the light?" "Yes and no, falling from high hopes hurts terribly, yet staying alone in the dark will render you incapable of doing anything more than cower. Everything has a risk and reward, the latter, is no risk, and definitely no reward. I would take a chance, a risky one at that, but I'd take the chance to rise." "I don't know about me..." "They say if you are at rock bottom, the only place to go is up. Choosing not to try, isn't rising, it's simply staying dead on the floor, yet alive enough to feel pain. Do not let yourself cower, but don't let yourself trip." My birthday is coming up, I feel a small sense of warmth flickering inside me, the old me. I let myself rest just for sometime, it feels amazing, I contact old friends, laugh with my family, and the best part is yet to come. This year my family bought an exquisite cake with candles numbering how old I am. I know I should be researching, but people need some slack or else they turn crazy, aha, quote my family. Maybe I didn’t cut my ties as cleanly as I assumed, perhaps I left them to die, but they rose ranks and blessed me with this day albeit everything I did to them. What a nice surprise to lighten the mood for me. I shall respect the ties, listen to them when necessary, but I will not protect them, they will have to fight to show their worth. As the fake gold platter of cake rests on the table my family smiles at me. I notice some of them are strained, maybe they believe it’s too good to be true, and yet again, they’ll lose me, slipping through their fingers. “Make a wish!” my sister cries bluntly, making my parents laugh. I haven’t heard the sound in so long, but my brain short circuits, what do I want to wish for? Then I fight through a dilemma, making my enemy fall, or my family happy. My mood falls, but I dare don’t show it on my face. I make my wish. “What did you wish for?” my sister asks. “Can’t tell you, it's the birthday rule” I laugh, but inside, I am cold. Aug 8/27 Aftershock “Sometimes, when I am hopeless, my morals leave me, they leave me and they are replaced by a dark pitting sadness. Albeit I try to stop it, the dark makes me cave and I am filled with it.” “Sadness is good, sadness is not always bad. If you lose a loved one, sadness reminds you that you cared for them. We are humans, we cry, we fall, we lose, we get hurt, without the bad, we no longer have a scale or something to compare to. Without the dark, we no longer know what true light is. Relish your time well, and don’t take anything for granted.” “But my morals…” “Sadness is your morals. Think of a time where you felt sad, why did you feel that way? Because something has been taken from you, if you feel good about it, that is not moral. If you feel pain and grief, that is the true insight into how you actually feel.” My birthday felt like a slap to the face after it was over. Remnants of the happy times were scattered upon the ground, and in this case in the air. Balloons and confetti cover the ground. I think to myself, before this whole fiasco would I have wished for my family in an instant? Maybe, but the answer was probably yes, in an instant. Instead my brain tries to soften the blow by spewing me white lies. I have changed, that is sure, but I need to embrace the change, or it will leave me broken and find a new host to torment. It was like I blew my hope away with my candles. I clean myself up for the next day at school, but seeing the left overs of the birthday make my heart twist for some reason. I cherish the feeling because it reminds me I’m still human. Aug 8/28 Connection “Why do sometimes, the people who keep you afloat, leave you to drown?” “It depends on what you’re saying…” “They… just leave you.” “Sometimes, it could be they want you to learn how to float even when they’re gone. They want you alive, even when they sink to the bottom, and yet it hurts a lot. We must be able to float on our own, just enough to meet the next person who will love us too.” “What if you can’t? What if you drown too, what if they were keeping you afloat but it was in vain?” “Nothing they do is in vain. You keep them happy even as they’re sinking, if they chose to keep you afloat during those times, they chose for a reason. They decided you were worth themselves, and sank for you. You are not the reason they fall, you are the reason they smile.” “I would not be able to stand the loss of them…” “And I thought you were supposed to be floating.” “Don’t sink, not for me, not for everyone in the world.” After barely mentally surviving a grueling day at school, I end up back home. I do that a lot recently, almost like I don’t go on fun trips or stay out with friends. The small day of happiness celebrated the day I was born and yet it feels as if a reminder when I will die, alone. I won’t though, I have you don’t I? I scream at a pit, and it echoes back at me but more of a whisper, like I’ve given up. I scream at a pillow, it smothers my cries, doesn’t bear to understand. I scream at myself, I feel nothing, and perhaps I’d rather feel self hatred because the rotten soul inside the empty shell of my body, begs to ache for something. I no longer stay scared at him, perhaps he was like me, unable to make the right decisions, and finally toppling the cap on his fury. This small string of connection I dredged up makes me feel like black oil coats my tongue, not saliva. They say there are stages for grief, I do not remember them, but I am not grieving, for I cannot feel anymore. The ties have fought valiantly, but they are extinguished. They are no more, like the soul within me. Aug 8/29 Cognitive Redemption

"How do we forgive?"

"Don't you do it all the time?"

"I cannot seem to forgive, at least not in the traditional sense, I hang onto mistakes people make. I put them away, and my opinion stands."

"There's something called correction bias, where you judge a person with simply their looks, and anything you see that confirms your verdict seems more prominent. Whereas the things that disprove it, seem to fade away. We cling to our opinions, say that our differences are what make us special, and while we apply those rules to ourselves, we fail to do the same with others."

"..."

"Our passion, in proving our point, seems to overshadow our public morals that we think are simply unspoken. But they are also unused, like using a wood tool before you use the stone one because you don't wish to damage the stronger one. Yet you cannot find the time to use the stronger one, because your wooden tool seems to linger as long as your stubbornness."

"I guess..."

"Bringing ourselves to admit we were wrong can be a struggle sometimes, and it is even harder to fully forgive someone. Sometimes, we just don't mention it ever again, but we stick to it, to compare it to the new person you look at, and with their past mistake you taint their new start."

The weekends are harder to bear than the weekdays. I cannot bear to hang out with friends, so I am stuck in my own mental cage running errands all the time to avoid looking my own family in the eye. There are 3 gift boxes neatly stacked upon one another in a pyramid form, one from my mom, one from my dad, and one from my younger sister. I do not dare open them, for I am scared, and undeserving of those gifts. Instead I pretend that they do not exist and I lock them into my dusted closet, away from sight. I ready myself for school dressed plainly like the plain look in my eyes, slipping my backpack on. I stagger out the door, as there is one big water bottle on one elastic strap. As I unlatch my bike, I wonder to myself, if I could have one day where I could do anything I wanted, what would I do? Unsurprisingly I first think of him, and bringing his fall. Yet when I really think, what would I want to do, I think of eating with my family at dinner. Laughing with my friends, playing Legos with my little sister, and eating ice cream sitting on a curb. I could do anything I wanted in the world, yet I chose such average, trivial things. Maybe that was the whole point.

Aug 8/30 Mirage

(Author's note:This chapter used to be titled Deception, but something in me made me change the title to Mirage because it better suited the blind faith, instead of the probability of a cunning mastermind.)

"People who can see behind your mask, do they understand?"

"Bold of you to assume there even is a mask."

"Everyone has a mask."

"I see you've grown smarter."

"Hey..."

"People who can see behind our masks are the people who usually have one even thicker than yours. The way people get to know more about you is by listening, and with a mask, they are plated in walls. They have no texture, no emotion, no judgment, nothing to discolor or change. They don't interrupt, and just stay silent, like a wall would."

"..."

"Of course, talking to an object is looked down upon, but they act like one, drinking up everything you say without a change of face. But when you think more about it, if they are a wall, it would be rough and unyielding. They could not be a wall. It is simply too obvious. They are not clay either, for if you ask them a question, they are not suspiciously agreeable. No, they are a mirror, but with a small crack. When you look at them, you see yourself, but a small, diverse part of them that makes them automatically more human. You speak without understanding the consequences; it simply feels natural. In your understanding, they are you. They experienced everything you did, a small yet strong cord of connection that often leads most to talk about other... not as prominent parts of their life. You want them to see a part that you've shown no one else, because they are special, and you want to be special to them. Until the time you realize that they haven't shared anything of their own."

"Then you feel bad?"

"But in their presence, you are the main character. Like you're the only person in the world, like you are their number one priority. You paint yourself in the spotlight. Even if you are inside a crowd of people, they only seem to see you. Even if everyone in the crowd is just as delusional as you are. But perhaps, just maybe, you let yourself live understood."

I feel like I'm in an endless loop. No escape, like a maze that circles over and over again, with no escape. There is no escape.

Sleep, wake up, dress, school, avoid, eat, repeat. 

Sleep, wake up, dress, school, avoid, eat, repeat.

Sleep, wake up, dress, school, avoid, eat, repeat. 

I feel trapped. My brain has accepted that I am not the same, yet the blandness of repetitive actions remains. I'm still human, I still can feel pain, I need to breathe, I still can laugh. Sometimes, I just don't want to. My research now feels like homework, my friends feel like school work, my family feels like a test. He, that boy, feels like the teacher. There's another mind inside of me, forcing my empathy away, destroying all the foundations my parents built alongside me. Watching the pillars of my morals crumble was disgustingly satisfying to me, or to the monster that had taken me without my notice. The hollowness in my chest felt like a pit that could never be pleased. Taking more, always taking more. Yet I feel so free, so relaxed. I do not have to live under the crushing weight of norms; I simply do not care. No, I do care, it doesn't. My mental defeat seems to linger over me, like a taunt that refuses to accept it has gotten old. Freeing myself from its chains is a mystery, one that must be solved, or one that'll be taken to the grave.

Aug 8/31 Different

"I'm scared, how are you never scared?"

"Don't you think I'm scared?"

"I think, you are scared, but you laugh more than me. You smile and talk about bad things as if they sum up just as much the great things."

"I do so, but what if all those things were simply distractions for the impending sadness and failure that linger just around the corner? Isn't it just more talk to stall time before we part ways? Before we never see each other again, but we remember each other, all a memory and a shadow a person that has developed from the loneliness. Without each other, with no one to support you aren't you just an empty husk? People fill you with memories but as you stand alone wouldn't you think that the world isn't fair? That you deserved someone to lean on when things hurt most?"

"I'd want someone to talk to, no matter how bad and rude they are. No matter how they ignore me and laugh at my mistakes. I'd take a loyal enemy over fake friend. Over the heartbreak of losing a crutch then getting stabbed in the heart. I'd take walking on spikes over losing the ground underneath my feet."

"Are you better off without people? No, people shape us and it's what makes people different. Having no ambition, losing people that held you up, being a lost cause, it all starts to pile up until there is nothing left. Nothing except a husk. Funny how too much of something took everything away, until you are stuck in abyss. People are selfish so the light I saw when I saw someone else this this abyss was blinding, I don't care how they got there, I care that they're here now. Now, I smile and talk about bad things as if they sum up just as much the great things. Because now, there is everything I ever wanted surrounded by this nothingness, coaxing it to stay here. Stay here my light, hold me up just enough to breathe and never leave. Without you, I am in the dark and everything I built in sorrow will make way for someone you don't want to talk to no matter how alone you are."

Different, I am simply different from the others. I am not special, I'm simply different. Different means diverse, different means standing out, different means not like others. Yet, then why does it sound so dry. So unsaturated, like a laugh given to ease tension, but instead brings light to the reason why the encounter is awkward. What does special mean? This trivial yet nagging question led me to search it up, and results were "better" and "precious". What made someone precious? People die everyday, it is a simple fact, everyone is different yet, we do not feel like we've lost something precious when we learn this fact. What if I am different because my parents whisper about my health behind my back? Am I different because I don't look at my family with pride, but with fear? Am I different because I care about a boy's pain and downfall? Am I special?

Aug 9/1 Purpose

"Are we bad people just because we are here?"

"This is hell, a punishment for people that lost their way. The people controlling this hell might believe this is a simply a rocky path back to the normal road, but they don't understand do they? Would they let you out because you beg them? The answer is no. People can change but these people think this is for the better, they look at the mold they shaped for people like us and nod in approval. Never once do they look at the broken stone that comes out on the other end. People shatter under the pressure of an expectation that they do not fix. To be forcibly changed into another one's dream is another one's nightmare."

"Have you ever been the one controlling?"

"I have in my delusions. I sit above others and I hold power over others, but I was a young fool that took my ignorance for granted. I know too much for my own good, I understand that I was never in control, I was simply sitting on the saddle of a horse without any reins to hold."

"I want to be in control, I want people to understand what I went through, then maybe they won't look at me with such disgust."

"I only want one thing."

"What is it?"

"That is the one question I will not answer."

I’m not safe for people. To people, I’m a dangerous wild card that could go horribly wrong or could make people smile. I’m a chance, a dangerous one that a dying human would choose in their last moments. In the month I have tried to fix the world, but now I must fix myself. Can I even be fixed? I feel something, a feeling that I cannot name, running underneath my skin. I feel that I will be fixed, that a broken part of me will mend if I let it loose. They don’t know what it feels to be alone willingly. I hear some people crying out for help when they lose something so small in school, but you never showed for me when I begged. I’ll let you know how it feels to be alone, I’ll let you beg and leave you to your own hollow thoughts. Can’t you see that I’m better off alone? Though I’m empty without someone, it hurts less than watching the expression someone wears when they uncover the monster that lives under the mask. I am better off alone.

Aug 9/2 Acceptance

"How do people get here? I came, and I went. I finally stopped and when I did I landed here. I feeling I feel that I should know comes over, like a nostalgia, yet I can't remember a single thing other than my failure."

"People come here because they need a break from the world. This is where good guys come to wither under their pained memories, this is where bad guys come to bloom under their pained memories. This is a place of rest and torture. The question is, which one are you."

"There are no good guys or bad guys. There are people, people who made mistakes no matter what they did and they either succeeded or didn't."

"There are bad guys and good guys."

"But you said-"

"What I said. What I told you. What if. Why. When. So many questions hidden in statements, so many statements hidden in questions. Don't you know sometimes someone wants someone to lean on?"

"Of course-"

"Sometimes, people tell you things about themselves. They tell you too much because they want to be special remember? You are my mirror, a shining mirror, but you aren't mine. We are only connected because we are both here. You are a good guy. I am a bad guy. It is simple. Can't you see that I want to be special too? That I finally want to rest on someone's fuel rather then run on second chances? You need to see that I'm a bad guy because I know this is wrong but I won't stop it. I'll feed my happiness that'll soon turn to insanity because I know exactly what I'm doing, and I know it's wrong. And I won't stop it."

Why can’t I be happy anymore? I can’t have anyone to cry on or cry for. I cannot cry for myself anymore, what is there to pity? There are only things to hate about me. Why could it be anyone else in this world? I’m better in an abyss where there are no people to want to accompany. This world is not built for a shell that does not sleep at night, not built for a shell that is forcibly fused with a tortured soul that only knows regret. I feel fake. My skin does not feel like mine, I feel that my body is holding my soul hostage, and the ransom is my life. Would I take my life to free my soul? No. I realize, because I care. Who knew? I care about my family, my friends, and the people who used to love me. I realize that I would only burden them, and taking myself meant putting the blame on them. It meant giving them the reason to say they weren’t good enough. They were always good enough, it was I who failed to live without hate. So I must carry myself for them, even if it hurts, even if the weight of the world is on my shoulders. And for once in my life after the incident, I feel true purpose, not rageful vengeance, just acceptance.

Happily Ever After

"What are you talking about?"

"HAH! Your ignorance is like an umbrella under the sun, simply there to relax your trivial needs. It won't be there for the rain, it'll hide as torrents of cold water drown you. Are you feeling excited? I'm excited. I'm worried, I'm scared, but I'm excited. Like you're on the edge of a treadmill, you're too tired to just run anymore. Just accept it. You feel your feet slipping, and you're worried about the impact, but the fall is drug of adrenaline."

"What's the problem, just tell me."

"YOU, it's you. It's. Always. You. No... It's not you, it's me. It's. Always. ME! It's me! Despite everything that went wrong, that went right, it's ME! It feels so good to finally admit, I'm the mistake in this equation, because... It's ME!"

"And you wish it wasn't."

"What'd you know about my wants?"

"Enough to know that this isn't you."

"But it is! Please, don't sugarcoat this, don't be the fake friend, because then you are not mine. Tell me I'm the worst, be MY loyal enemy. Be mine. You say a lot of things and this is the time you remember. You must understand. You have to. If you don't, well there's no point in this is there. Absolutely nothing, BUT ME!"

"Don't you remember the old times where we had fun together in here?"

"I bet you feel like a child locked in with a feral animal. You believe you can calm it, yet you're still scared. You believe if you walk away slowly, you pet it and powder it is white lies it'll heel to you. If you think this isn't me. If you believe there is a pure soul under all of this teeth, I'll help you. I'll help you understand that you are so, so wrong. There is only one way to do that. I want you, to read my diary."

"You used to be mine. I was yours, I was floating because of you, and you were floating because of me. I want things to go back to normal."

"That is not normal. THIS, THIS is normal. Now read my diary, and see why I've come to bloom like a flower. Now, this is where you wither alone with a monster."

"The boy who loved pineapples a bit too much..."

"The monster who loved them a bit too little..."

"The human who loved the monster a bit too late"