There wasn't a whole lot that could be discussed about him. There wasn't ever anything. Really, his days were spent typing away on his husktop, and that was only ever on the most productive of days. If he really wanted to he could always just go out and make his Lusus proud by wreaking havoc onto useless grubs and their unsuspecting Lusii. At this point it couldn't be anything but ironic, killing guardians to make your own happy. Only some sick fuck would find gratification doing something so heinous. Except he was pretty sick and not in the cool way...never in the cool way.
Like always, every day was a repeat of what happened the day prior. He'd be so lucky if, just once, something interesting happened. This troll's life didn't have a gram of originality and that pissed him off the most. Even as a breathing sac of organs, if there was nothing to him then he was just as useless as all the others. Nobody ever told him how he'd go about finding his identity, or even how to make a name for himself. Living had always been so uneventful.
At this point he'd give anything to turn away from these thoughts he pondered on so often. Perhaps a beating from his Lusus would fill that pit of empty. Maybe even hurting the stupid Land Dwellers that his would-be-Matesprit adored so much would help ease the itch afflicting his body. But even then it was never worth it. A temporary relief could only ever serve as a distraction. Like when he'd tear and scratch up his arms and legs. It was only HIS own grey skin that looked so disgusting and classless. On any other troll the natural grey tone seemed alright but even then, he'd always hated how his acceptance of their normalcy made him feel.
He, quiet and rugged, an alien among the rest, had never truly belonged. So tasteless and fraudulent was his sad, pathetic, and whiny life. That's all it would ever be.
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
Homestuck Drabbles (Raw Drafts)
फैनफिक्शनJust some things I type in my notes when I need angst in my life... sorry English is not my primary language
