DSMP Oneshots

You have to learn to let go.

// I can not stress this enough, this fic is extremely depressing. It deals with a terrible state of mind and I believe derealization, so if you are sensitive to any of that, please do not read. I'll be working on Awsamdad and Tommy content soon, but in the meantime have a semi-vent fic.\\
TW: Self-Depreciating Thoughts, Derealization(?)

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Tommy had never been anything near quiet or self-reserved. Ever since he was very, very young, all he knew was excitement and shouting. Of course that was a usual child-like trait, but the thing was the trait never left. In fact, as he grew, he was known for being loud and chaotic.

That had never been specifically a bad thing. (So when did it become that?)
Through everything, it lifted everybody's spirits. (When did that stop?)

Despite the wars, the failure, the betrayal, and death(Weren't those his fault, too?), Tommy would always be there waiting for everybody. He'd be laughing and smiling, cracking jokes to lighten the mood.

(It helped everybody, didn't it? You liked being the center of attention? It was just a coping mechanism, though, right? Every terrible thing you've been through, every threat that was said to you, every time your family abandoned you - you turned it into a joke. You felt the need to keep up the happy-go-lucky act, so you learned to cope with laughter.)

(So when and why did they all-)
Leave?
What?
You heard me. When did they all leave?
How did you-
That's not an answer. I'll ask again. When did they all leave you? Was it something you did? Was it your fault again? Everything's always your fault, isn't it?
That's not true!
If it's not true, then why have you started taking the blame for things you weren't even involved in?
I... I don't know.
You're trying to play hero. You're trying too hard. Just stop.
I wish I could. Please go away.

...

"You're a liability."
(You think so too.)

"Selfish."
(You didn't mean to be.)

"Then die like one."
(Maybe you should.)

"You're not my son."
(Wait- what?)

"We want you gone."
(I don't-)

"Why are you still here?"
(When did-)

"You're annoying!"
(They said that?)

"We-"
(Please stop.)

"HATE-"
(I didn't mean to!)

"YOU."
(PLEASE SHUT-)

"UP!"

Tommy shot up, breath heavy and eyes foggy with tears. He took in his surroundings, shaky inhales and harsh exhales. He was still in his dirt home, the smell of dirt and rain strong. There was a crack of thunder that caused him to shout, along with hard thumps of rain following.

He leaned against his dirt wall and let out a shaky breath. He counted to ten and thought about everything he could see, smell, hear, feel and taste.

My eyes are closed, I see darkness.
I smell the dirt that my house is made of.
I hear the rain and thunder outside.
I feel my soft blankets underneath me.
I taste nothing, my mouth is empty.

He opened his eyes and sighed softly. Those nightmares had become more and more frequent to the point where they were no longer nightmares. They were becoming reality.

I wish I could change something. I don't want to live like this.

He stared down at his shaking hands, drops of water falling down onto them. Was it raining inside his house?

The water fell at a faster pace.

Oh. I'm crying.

He curled into a ball and let go.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.