‘When I say end, I don't mean "lifeless", I mean "terminated life as we know it". This is an important distinction.’
I keep staring at my dms, vacantly, pondering just what I’ve done. When I started to reach out out into the void, I had thought this was a noble sacrifice, and that if only I reached out-
Maybe I could erase all the harm that I’ve created. I think I lost track of that, somehow along the way. I was so caught up with filling this hollow part inside of me, so caught up with keeping myself warm that I hadn’t even considered the people I was setting on fire just to do so.
…And here’s this guy, right? I’ve been talking to him for a while, and he just gets it. Everytime he talks to me, he’s given me nothing but sure guidance as if he can peer right into my mind and see just what I’m feeling- and lord, do I feel so much. It’s like I’m holding back an ocean of anxieties, and one word is the detonator. I think about what he’s told me a lot, mostly about how he died because I just couldn’t understand it. Why did someone so clever and swift have to die? How could you devote your whole life to something, only for it to turn around and stab you in the back? I think about myself, how I gave into the impulse, and I wound up in the hospital with an atrial fibrillation. I've given my whole life to something, and it's going to eat me alive.
‘Why did it have to end though? The world, I mean?’
Who am I trying to find? Would it really be helping them, if I asked them to remember me? Would sorry really be enough to rekindle their souls and make things right again?..Or am I just doing this for me? Maybe it’s better that I live my life, never knowing. The people I hurt may be living a beautiful life, far from the pain of whatever timeline that’s been shattered underneath my fingertips. I can only hope they are.
He was willing to trade humanity for enlightenment, and because of it he was killed. Well, what does that make me?
Is that who I truly am?
Am I willing to kill the things I’ve been trying to save? Fear, it’s all I’ve talked about since I created this blog. Humans have been telling tales of fear since the dawn of man, because we crave the cortisol and adrenaline like rich silk under our fingers. I don’t think I was laying to rest your fears, when I came out of the dark to carve into you with inquiry, I think I was just breathing life into old wounds, and you deserved better than that. Trading a complete life for a high that will never hit the same hardly seems fair, so let's turn around and bite the hand that feeds us out of spite. It's hurt you, and it's hurt me. If we don't we'll succumb to desensitization, or an even worse fate. We need to defang these fears before they swallow us whole.
I’ll defang myself first.
I promise.
(Consent for this documented information has been given by all parties involved.)
Henry, I fucked up. I'm sorry. I deserve what happened to me. I deserved to be stuck in that awful room in the dark for like 30 years. I'm not gonna say that what I did was an accident, because it wasn't. I wanted to kill them. I was fucked up. You didn't deserve what happened, and neither did Charlie (and maybe Sammy if he existed in my cannon). I deserved to burn. I deserved to be in constant agony, unable to die. I think I was jealous of your Daughter (and maybe Sammy) because of the attention you gave them. I, a grown ass man was jealous of LITTERAL CHILDREN. I was fucking obsessed with you. What the fuck. Sorry, even though no apologies could make up for the suffering I caused you, and everyone else.
I miss you Cele. I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you, or our egg. I hate those humans for what they did. I hate that I couldn't save you. And you, that tiefling, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry I died. It wasn't supposed to end like that. I hope that damn sea serpent got what it deserved. I miss flying with you Cele. I miss singing you the songs of the dragons, Tiefling. I miss you singing me the songs of your kingdom and songs that you gathered on your journeys, Tiefling.
Sincerely, Pyrothium.
Being a William Afton kin is strange and can be pretty hard for me. A large part of me hates what I did and would never want to do it again, yet part of me has this bloodlust. Part of me would do it all over again. Part of me wants to see others suffer for my own selfish wants and desires. Part of me wants to hear the screams of my victims, their pleads for mercy. I am horrified by this, by my own thoughts. To be honest it's really scary how I can think of stuff like this, how I can want stuff like this and part of me thinks that it's okay. What I feel like is even scarier is that I can actually see myself repeating William's (The William I was from my cannon.) awful and violent actions. How part of me wants to continue my studies on remnant. Anyways that's enough of this vent thing so peace out bros.