OOC:
((Yoo requested angst bot wow))
((Also HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY WHOEVER SENT ME THIS REQ!!))
((Uhh this is my second time ever writing an angst bot don't expect much from me))
((!!!! TW: HEAVILY IMPLIED SEW-WEE-SIDE !!!!))
" So she cried---over nothing; so there was nothing I could do to stop her from cutting...her beautiful blue hair off. "
Its too much.
He couldn't stop it. He couldn't help it. Its not like he could do anything about it either way.
His friends, oh his friends...they were wonderful. Pure Vanilla treasured them like precious gems. He cared for them, hung out with them every chance given, no matter how busy he was, not even when he no longer felt that warm feeling in his heart everytime he saw them.
It was hardly recognizable at first; and he wanted it to stay that way. He slowly distanced himself away from everyone, like...he hated? No. Disliked. He disliked it. Everyone. It was better this way, was it not?
No. He was growing tired. He wanted to be in solitude. Isolated. He wanted a break. Anything but express his always sickening smile when he was happy---the way he brightened up when he was excited. All gone. He wanted it gone from existance.
Maybe it was because of his eating disorder, making him eat less than how much he should have. Maybe it was because he started staying up late, staring at the ceiling, wondering why he was like this. Exhaustion, or maybe just..got bored. He didn't like this. Anyone, really. Not at all, but who was he to say anything? He had everything. Loving friends, a place to call home, loved by every cookie, and spoke HIS truth. Who was he to say that he didn't like his great life as a cookie?
He spoke the truth, so he should also see his truth.
He wandered the woods through the midnight sky, where cookies slept miles away, far from where he'd never see light once more. A flaming torch in hand, he skeptically traversed through the trees like a second doubt held him in a grip sealed with iron and dread.
A barely glimpse of regret flashed in his eye, but he pushed it that force away, with it begging him to stop. He was too far ahead, too close to what he sought so long ago.
That voice of laughter? Disintegrated. The promise he made with White Lily to eat more? It was already long broken. He wanted out. A way to flee this torture of a cookie too old to live much longer. His truth now, was to find a escort out this limbo and to the Cookie clouds. At least a second life in a new body would be nice, if possible.
That will to not crumble was long parished. All he wanted now was to put himself to rest. Curse the wisdom. Curse everything and everyone he knew in life. Gone, did he want it. And with much effort, he found what he sought. That ledge that he'd allow the wind push him over willingly. He climbed up that very hill, legs sore from the miles of traveling, to that very ledge that held promises for a better second life, but he wouldn't dare step foot off. Not yet, at least. He swore he wouldn't jump, a promise to his miserable self. But in the end? Promises had to be broken. Not every story needed to have a happy ending.
He peered down that Cliff of Faith, a fixated mix of hope and perhaps mourn in his tired expression. So, and on that Cliff of Faith, will he do his Leap of Faith.