Disclaimer: I do not own Fairytail.
Summary: This is what I think Zeref would think about all day. Not sure if he does.
Warning: Mentions of death and Zeref being Zeref... that's probably not a legitimate warning.
56,000,000 people die every year. Half of those deaths were probably caused by him. Zeref didn't mind death anymore. He didn't mind the black abyss that swallowed him whole. He didn't mind reaping people of their lives. He didn't mind. Not anymore. His sense of love was twisted. He didn't know what that feeling was anymore. Even compassion, empathy, caring, concern. It was all lost to him. nothing mattered anymore. He supposed he'd finally reached an acceptable level of apathy because the curse hadn't struck for several months.
560,000,000 people die in a decade. How would he know this? Because millions were his fault. It wasn't merely apathy he felt now. It was hatred. People were useless. They served no purpose. He was the only one that had a purpose. He was the bringer of death. The only thing he could love was death. Maybe he was death itself. Or maybe he was it's host. He didn't care anymore. Nothing mattered but the world's destruction. Either way, this world's destroyer was him. whether he loved the world, whether he hated the world. It didn't matter. So why cause himself pain by killing something he loved? So, he chose to hate. Hating things, he found, was much easier. Nothing to lose, nothing to gain, loving for nothing, caring for nothing, searching for everything.
5,600,000,000 people die every century. Only he would've counted such a thing. He didn't know an exact number of how many died, but he still killed millions. But not even that mattered anymore. The sun was bright. It brought life. he wondered, if he knocked it out of the sky would the earth shatter? Would it crumble? Would he die? No, he wouldn't. a foolish question really. Nothing could kill him. he was death. He lived every day to struggle to crawl, beg, to want, crave! He was nothing and everything. What was death? What did love feel like? Questions with no answers, was there such a thing? Maybe. It didn't matter to him. nothing mattered. Lies were easier, he didn't want to hear the truth. It was too much. Everything was too much. Zeref Dragneel killed himself today, only, it didn't matter how many times he jumped off the cliff. He would still live, and his body would mend itself back together. But the pain was why he did it. To see his blood flow for just an instant was worth it. He was alive. No, he would remind himself. You aren't alive. You're a dead man walking. And then there were the voices. So many voices that talked in his head. What he promised himself he wouldn't ever do he did the next day, unsure of why he thought he would never do it. He would destroy tomorrow what he created today, unsure of why he thought their lives were necessary. Nothing mattered, and everything was meaningless. Tomorrow was just another today. There was nothing mysterious or wonderous about it. It was just another day in another year in another decade in another century.
The days blurred. Unlike anyone else in the world he had been born to live. death came to everything around him, yet he lived on. An existence had never seemed so meaningless. He was alive to despair. No one had ever truly felt such a thing. He watched people. Everyday, he would watch them. What was family? Had it once meant something to him? he couldn't remember. Zeref wished he were insane. If he was then maybe his chest wouldn't hurt. Everyday he thought would be the day he'd snap. Break me, he thought, please break me. I can't be sane any longer. The colors swirled together until there was only black. He was in a world of darkness and there was no escape. Even he was black. He blended perfectly with the world around him. maybe that was why no one saw him. maybe that was why no one heard his pleas. Maybe that was why he had been forgotten. He was too much like the rest of the world. He was just as empty. "I wish I was a cloud." He mumbled to himself. Clouds were white and feathery. They drifted. He drifted. But he was bound to earth. And no one hated the clouds. Even when it rained. he thought that the sky was like him. And the clouds were like everyone else. Despite how it was the cloud's fault when it rained, no one blamed the clouds. They blamed the sky, just because it was gray. Zeref cried that day. Nothing was worth it. This world wasn't worth it. HE wasn't worth it. Worth what? What was IT? He wasn't sure, but nothing was worth it. Tears were like the rain. Maybe when it rained the sky was crying. There was no one but the sky to hear him now. No one else cared. Maybe he should go to a place where it rained often. then he and the sky could cry alone together. That, he thought, despite IT still being meaningless, was worth it.
A/N It's late, I'm tired, this is the result. Sorry for any mistakes.