Markiplier Ego Stories!

Simple (A Wilford Warfstache FanFic)

"One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple."
— Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums

.

One day he would find the right words, and they would be simple.

The clawing darkness behind his eyes would lighten, glistening with spring dew in a fragile light made for two. The screaming inside his skin, the scritching and scratching and itching and catching and hollering hollering screaming screaming!

...it would all end. One day, it would settle into a shrill shriek, a course call, a strangled shout. And it would continue to settle and continue to quiet itself and continue and continue and continue until it was

nothing

but

a whisper.

One day he would have silence, just him and his thoughts, thoughts thoughts thoughts thoughts thoughts thoughts thoughts thoughts!! And they wouldn't scream anymore they would listen to him they'd heed him hear him know!!

Know...!

He would know how he felt. He would know all those memories he'd suppressed, the emotions he'd rejected. He would understand the things he'd denied himself for so many years that they twisted themselves into a fleshy, misshapen amalgam of horror and sinew and regrets.

So many regrets.

He regretted so much.

So

much.

But that would melt away, parsley butter on a pastry! Chocolate in soup, a house in a hurricane! It would all fade into ink and tears and dissolve down to bare bones, bereft of benefit. But it would be pure, putrescent, scintillating at its core.

Core.

His core.

He felt his own core corruption. His corroded circuits. His chastised mind, blanking when he needed it most, erasing things important to him, gnawing gnawing gnawing at memory and emotion, love hate fear love.

But one day he would find them. One day he would understand again. One day it would flood back, torrential downpour, softest trickle.

One day he would find the right words in his head.

And for once they would be simple.