Let's take a dive here. Guest reviews!
Dreadwing216: Or something like that.
The-Snowy-Owl-13: Don't worry. It gets worse. Before long, I'll have you weeping.
ISLSHYBMHYN: I can live with that XD. Hopefully you'll BMLYN by the end of the story. I think you now what that means.
Why do I even need to say I don't own Phineas and Ferb?
The autopsy could not pronounce me dead.
But the doctor could.
Nobody has ever been able to say with certainty what killed me, and I would argue that I am not even dead.
Not unless the afterlife is actually a curse to wander around for eternity.
Isabella's thirteenth birthday was bound to be unforgettable. But I had never imagined it to be remembered for what it is now.
Since then, a great many things have changed. None of them for the better.
They have given up creating, smiling, laughing, enjoying, having fun. It seems that their only purpose now is to sulk. I don't know what prompted this reaction. It should never have turned out like this.
Perry, I discovered, is a secret agent, but now treats his daily job like a strenuous chore which he would rather not get involved in.
Isabella, I also discovered, loves me. Loved me, she would correct, if anyone brought it up. But after five years of thought, I can say for sure that the feeling is mutual.
Baljeet has not been his brainiac self since the accident, nor has Buford laid a finger on anyone.
Ferb has assumed the role of talker, but each word he says is now laced with emptiness.
Candace seems to have lost all enthusiasm for everything. The passion which she held an abundance of is now gone, replaced by an unbelieving pessimist.
All around me, I can see nothing but brokenness, lostness, and hopelessness. The ingenuity, joy, and eagerness which had been abound is now gone.
How was I the catalyst to all this? What have I done?
If only they knew I wasn't dead. But I have for five years tried telling them that. I can't.
I feel like Schrödinger's cat.
Dead and alive.
For those of you who haven't heard of Schrödinger's cat, look it up. Simply put, it's a paradox developed by some guy named Schrödinger where a cat is trapped in a box with a slowly killing poison, and since you don't know how long the poison takes to kill, the cat is dead and alive until the exact moment that you open the box to find out. Or something like that.
~Review! If you please.