A/N: I'm probably gonna make an actual fic out of this (It's Dimentio's backstory up until Super Paper Mario), but for right now I think I'll post it as-is. (It was written at 4 am and I was half asleep)

He doesn't know love or friendship, because it's a thing he's never experienced.
You're trying to describe a color he hasn't seen.
He has never known love, not from his parents, not from a friend.
Everything he's seen of love is followed by harsh words and pain and anger and sadness.
He's never known companionship, only those who pity him.
Friendship is not a friendship unless you get something from it.
He's closed himself off from that foreign "love" feeling because it leads to sadness, which is weakness.
He pities her, who feels these emotions still.
He wonders.
Thinks.
What would it be like if such love didn't exist?
If love only leads to pain, why not remove love from the equation entirely?
What if such a perfect world were to exist?
Things of imagination, he thinks.
He wanders on.
Everything ends in a blur of screaming, threats, blood, shattering, slicing, red, death.
Things like this are terrible.
Things like this are what happens in this world.
And others.
And still he wanders on.
Farther and farther away.
Not once pausing.
He keeps going.
Lying.
Donning a mask, perfecting the act, pleasing the crowd.
And still he wonders.
And wanders.
And still the thought plagues him,
"What is the purpose of this world, if all it causes is pain?"
And one night, he stops wandering.
He finds a purpose.
He hears the tales of a mystical object, one that foretell the end of this world.
The end of this pain-causing world.
He's interested.
He takes it for himself.
He begins studying it, the darkness inside him welcoming this new kind of...evil, the thing that most others have lost their minds to.
And he had already lost his long ago.
He gives it up, but he's already found a new plan.
A new idea.
He wanders with a purpose.
He's waiting.
He finds him.
Heartbroken, filled with grief, he's lost his mind to that evil, and he is powerful, but you cannot build a skyscraper on a weak foundation.
He is weak.
And that's all he needs to slip in, make his entrance, all the while thinking,
"If this world causes pain, why should I not create a new one?
A new world?
One in MY own image.
MY own new world.
Make it perfect."
He's always turned away, but he still remains,
until he's finally accepted,
blending in with the rest of them,
A little odd, maybe,
but nothing nobody would suspect.
And still he keeps his eyes on the skyscraper,
waiting for his chance to see it cave in,
come crashing down,
and then maybe he can rebuild it.
Rebuild the skyscraper,
rebuild the earth it's been built on,
rebuild it in his own, perfect, image.
"I can hardly stand the wait~"