Thank you for taking the time to read this fanfic! I will work my best to update is as much as I can. By the way, all trolls are human in this. Tw: suicide Tw: self harm
You get through the day as best you can, holding onto the hope that things will get better. But they don't. They never do. So you go through the process of each day, not really there, just going through the motions. You're like a an electrical plug, but you're not plugged into the outlet. You're detached. You get up. English, History, Study hall, Lunch, Science, P.E, Math, Art. You go home. You go on the internet. You sleep. Repeat. Everyday. And the cycle never stops, it just get's more redundant and cruel. Life kicks you in the face over and over, and by now you just let it happen. You are tired, and sad, and goddammit you have had enough.
Your name is Karkat Vantas, and today is the last day.
You get home at the same time you do everyday. Today would have been like any other, except it wasn't. The reason for that is today you have a plan. You're going to do it, after all these years of thinking about it. And the thought makes your lips curl up into a sad smile. This is it. You're not coming back. Like you'd want too come back to this rotten existence anyway.
You drop you back pack and head to your room, sitting gingerly on the foot of your bed. Everything is here exactly as how you left it the morning before. Walls a charcoal gray, posters of your favorite romcoms and actors hung here and there, your computer, and your collection of books. All of it was still here. And it would all still be here when you left. Everything would be, nothing would change. You didn't make any impact on this world and well, maybe it was better that way. Maybe that would make it easier to go. And it did.
A sigh escapes your lips and you feel your eyes prickle with the warning sign of tears. But they aren't necessarily sad tears. They're just tears. You were always crying now and you had zero control over it and you hated yourself for it. You were weak and stupid and god be damned if you weren't sure about doing this before you were sure now.
You look under your bed, movements becoming more and more frantic. And then you find it. You open up the shoebox to find razor blades and pills, the pills which had only been there since yesterday, when your planning had all wrapped up and you made your decision. You take the razor blade in your hand and hold it gently until the metal warms up from the heat in your palm. Pulling up your sleeves reveals a battle field of scars and cuts. Some old, some new, all precious to you. Because as of late, cutting is the only thing that makes you happy. And you know how fucked up that is. You know and you can't stop because in they back of your mind the feeling of deserving to be fucked up battles with the feeling of deserving to feel such delicious waves of pain and ecstasy and escape battle each other. They're both winners.
Taking in a deep breath you drag the razor blade across your arm in a swift, deep motion. There it is. The release. The little burst of light behind your closed eyelids when you cut deepest, it's all there and it's all welcoming. You do this again, several times, before grabbing the bottle of pills. You look over the tiny orange bottle in your hands. This was it. Today was the day. And for a second, you thought, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. But then you remembered how much of a failure you were, all the people that deserted you, all the disappointments and snide remarks and scorned laughter and tears that were left undried as a child because your dad was busy out being a thug. You remember every moment from the first day of school to now and it overwhelms you so much you don't have the space in your head to second guess yourself and in a second the bottle cap is on the ground and your swallowing pills one by one as fast as you can and then there you are, empty pill bottle in hand. Your head spins. And you lie down.
You're so tired now, and you let your eyes fall shut.
