When did my writing stop being for fun, and started reflecting the worse in the world?

When was it that I stopped writing happily ever afters?

When was it when I stopped writing as an optimist?

When was it when I started loosing myself?

When did everything suddenly go bad?

When did everything fall apart?

When did I start staying up late at night, thinking about my flaws?

When did I start to thing everyone was against me?

When did this happen?

Why did this happen?

Why?

What did I do to deserve it?

What did I do wrong?

When did this happen?

I'll do anything to make it all stop.

If I just knew when.

'It's going to be okay'

You'll sit there and think.

Think that maybe, just maybe it'll all work out.

There are nights, where this mindset just doesn't happen.

Those are the saddest of nights.

The nights where you're taken to the deepest part of your very being.

Where all of your self hatred manifestos, and you begin to loathe it with every fibre of your being.

Those are the nights where you fall into the void.

Deeper

Deeper

and deeper until you cant find your way out. 

Then, you sit there. 

You sit there and think of everything wrong with you.

You think of your voice, your hair, your face, you looks, your personality. Everything. Then, you begin to think more. You think of every imperfection. Every small detail shows itself before you cant even pick out anything thats good about you. 

Not like there was anything in that category to begin with.

Now, this is the point where you stand up. You stand up and brush off your clothes and begin to look around.

You walk in circles.

Over and over and over you walk the same path. And every single time you begin to hate a little more about humanity. 

Cynical, isn't it?

But thats just how the game is played. Your not the puppet master, you're a pawn. Fated to play the same old game until your string is cut. 

But thats alright.

After all, everyone thinks you're fine. 

And, 

As long as others are fine, who cares about you? As if anyone would ever notice you, you're not even a needle in a haystack

No.

Compared to everyone else? You're insignificant. Over seven billion people in this world, so who would care about one single morsel? Besides, it was all your fault.

Your parent's divorce

Your family crumbling

Your friends' depression

Even their suicide attempts.

The world is better off without you!

So come on,

Do it.

Don't be a coward, just think about everything you've done. This will be good for the world! After this, you'll thank me.

As they always say,

You're never going anywhere with your life kid!

Who cares if you cut it short?

Thirteen years you've ruined things.

Thirteen years you've been a bother.  

You can still fix it! Tie the rope, slit your wrists and swallow the pills.

There you go.

Can you feel the blackness enveloping you?

Thats good.

You'll finally be out of the way!

You'll finally stop ruining things for once.

Your friends are cheering you on!

Close your eyes now, you should rest.

I hope you never wake up,

Because I would be just fine if you didn't. 

Her eyes darted around the loud room, fingers dancing along the

wooden table. No one had caught her interest. They were all stoic in their own way, not exciting enough to be noticed. The soft chime of the bell caused her attention to be turned onto the entrance. The café was never the most interesting place to be at, but the one who walked in caught the regular's eye.

She was beautiful.

It wasn't her looks that had made the other's mind go blank, but rather her pure moves.

They began to talk.

The regular learned the girl's name was Max.

Max, god she loved that name. She didn't question if it was short for anything, as it would ruin the mystery. Max also learned something about the regular.

Her name was Chloe.

She too, was a thing of beauty.

The way her eyes seemed to never run out of things to look at, and how her laughed echoed in the café. Her fingers still rhythmically tapping the table, but it was more slowed down.

It was as if the world only contained of the two of them. Their eyes were locked on each other for the whole night as they chatted about whatever came to mind. Time travel, the world ending, and butterflies were just some of the topics, which were seemingly unrelated.

However, they did have a small sense of nostalgia to them. They didn't speak much on those topics after coming to that realisation, feeling it would be best to leave that alone.

Soon enough, Max left the small café. Chloe leaned back in her chair, gazing around the room once more. Her eyes locked onto something in the corner, that no one else seemed to see.

It was a small blue butterfly.

"The prince has fallen!" 

The heftiness of those words were enough to drag people to their knees, causing them to let out loud and wretched sobs. Jasper Argyle, the prince had been shot in battle. He wasn't supposed to be on the battlefield. It could have been avoided if he would have just stayed put like Basil had told him to. But the prince had wanted to help, even after knowing he was untrained. The opposing army had caught him off guard, and he was shot in the head. The bullet had been lodged into his hippocampus, and he had been killed. Many soldiers knew it was inevitable, and continued to fight. However, there were two who rushed over to the prince. Two who had loved the boy, two who had never left his side. First, it was his sister who fell to her knees. She just witnessed her closest companion die, and she could have done something. If she was just paying attention this wouldn't have happened.

She blamed herself.

The second, was Basil. Sweet, little Basil. He didn't fall to his knees, and he didn't cry. He just simply picked up his weapon, and turned. Turned to the solider who shot. Turned to the killer.

He took a few steps foreword, narrowly avoiding death. He took a deep breath, loading his gun and aiming.

The bullet went whizzing through the air, going straight into the other person's heart. The soldier fell, dead within seconds. Basil paused, finally falling to his knees. He also let out a small, defeated cry as he mourned his closest companion. He could have done something, he thought to himself. He should have.

Basil blamed himself.

There was a sharp noise in his ear. It was one of those things that you'll have to experience, but you can think about it. It was painful and piercing, as well as migraine inducing. The boy looked at his hands, which were a sick colour. His senses were all dull, and there was no way he could tell what was happening.

The boy's eyes scanned the area, taking in everything they could. His mind was almost overloaded by the sheer icy tone, his temperature falling to deadly levels. The ringing stopped, much to his relief, but the short realisation soon set in.

Silence.

Silence followed by more, overwhelming silence. He glanced at the younger boy next to him, who seemed to be shouting. Nothing. Not a sound.

He took a deep breath, shaking his head quickly as if he were having a nightmare. He was going insane. There was no noise to be heard, and he can't stand that. Not in these conditions.

He looked down once more, his skin a sickly ashen colour. He took a deep breath, slowly getting on his feet as he slowly turned to the younger one. The boy had draped across something, quietly mourning it. But before it went any further, the older one tore his eyes away to a bright light. He frowned, unknowing and unsuspecting as he slowly and carefully took a step.

Another one soon followed.

He walked for what seemed like an eternity, wanting to stop here and there. Though, the light seemed to get bigger, and strange things began to happen.

After an elongated period of time, he reached a small door. He sucked in a breath, keeping his head high as he swallowed thickly. He turned the doorknob, glancing behind him.

"Goodbye, Ty."

He then walked in.