Markiplier Imagines

93 // You're Sick

"You're sick, you know that? You know that I can't stand you, that I can't help you, that I can't be your friend 'cause you're sick. And it's not something that anyone can help. You're so self-involved and so worried about how things are going to turn out for you that you never even fucking think about what happens to someone else.

"It makes me sick, thinking about it. 'Cause at one point, I considered you the love of my life, the one that could help me get through anything, that I could count on to catch me when I fell. But now, you're a fucking ghost to me. You came into my life, you showed me what it was like to feel happy, and then you ripped it away like I never meant a damn thing to you."

Hurt. Worry. More hurt. Old love. Lost hope. More hurt.

It was all a cycle at this point. A never ending cycle that you could never manage to pull yourself, or anyone else from. It's something that you want to go away, something that you wish never existed because it fucks up your life so tremendously that you lose sight of everything.

You lose sight of what you were supposed to see, you lose sight of what the best thing for you was, and you fall. You fall into the dark hole that you can't pull yourself out of alone, and no one wants to help you because they care too much about their own safety rather than yours. Normal for a human being, sure, but that's what's messed up.

People couldn't give two shits in a handbasket about a person whose upset, whose not sure they can live in this world anymore, whose going through the worst time in their life because it won't benefit them. It won't help them any, so why the fuck would they do it?

More importantly, why the hell would he care?

Why would the one man you loved, the one man you let get close, care?

He wouldn't, and he didn't. He didn't care if you were dead on the side of the road anymore, 'cause it didn't help him any. Why, just why, did you let yourself get fooled? Why did you tell yourself that it was okay to fall for someone like that?

Maybe because he knew all the right things to say at one point in time, maybe because he knew how to make you happy.

Maybe because he knew you were hurt.

He knew, goddamn, did he know. And he manipulated you in just the right way to make you believe that he was going to be the one to save you from that hole, and instead, he threw you deeper.

It isn't sad if you were honest. It isn't something that would make you cry for hours, trying to convince yourself that you didn't deserve any of that, calling your friends – both internet and in real life – to help you through it, or eating away your sorrows. 

It isn't happy. It isn't something that you would jump for joy about, wear a wide smile that hurt your cheeks, giggle uncontrollably because there isn't anything else to do, tell yourself that it was the best time you'd ever had in your life. 

It isn't anger inducing. It isn't something that makes you slam your fists down on any surface you can find, scream into your hands or your pillow because there isn't any other way to express it, push your friends away because you make yourself believe that they had a hand in it, or going and having to vent about it online so people can understand what's happening in your life.

It just is. It doesn't spark any emotion, really. Just nags at you – reminds you that you can't be that stupid again, and prompt you to think that people aren't going to be what they always seem upon first look.

"I just wish that I could understand why you did it. I wish I could've realize that you weren't the one I thought you were when I met you. I want to tell myself that I can make any wish in the world, and have it granted 'cause that's what I deserve at this point.

"But, I can't. I can't because you keep reminding me that life isn't the way I wanted it to be. You keep telling me that I'm silently deteriorating and wasting away because I'm letting it remind me. And although you're the reason that it's there in the first place, I can't stand the fact that you can stand there, and you can play innocent. 

"You're able to tell yourself that you had no hand in what happened to me, and you're able to tell yourself that everything you did helped me instead of hurt me. And you're sick. You're sick because you can tell yourself all of these lies, and you can tell me that you would never do anything of that caliber to any human being because that's not 'how you roll'.

"So, Mark Fischbach, I hope you rot, I hope you can lie to yourself some more when you, too, fall in that hole of emotionless void and tell yourself that everything's going to be okay. And I hope you can understand when I stand at the sidelines and am able to tell myself that everything I did was to help you."