A bit of dark humor & angst.
"Katsuki, would you say life's like a pencil?"
"Why?"
"It can be a double-edged blade, it withers away with use, it leaves marks on the world that can be erased but don't fully fade, it's shaped with time and experience, being sharpened is painful, and it feels like it's just a vessel that someone else is controlling the every movement of. They all come in different shapes, sizes, and types. Oh, and some are broken more easily than others. Some live longer or shorter lives. More damaged, less damaged. But shave them all down, and they're all the same inside."
"All right, pencil nerd."
"Can I put myself through a pencil sharpener? My life is dull and useless, and I don't want it anymore."
"Shoto, hell no—"