((OOC: i feel so bad for everyone whos trying to help jim because a good portion of these guys have to suffer MORE because of that...you guys can kill me for it tho its ok i kinda deserve it...))
I'm so sorry everyone. Mom, Dad, his majesties, Kevin, Monty, Vanilla...
I'm sorry I couldn't be a better person.
I'm sorry I failed you all.
I hope you can all come to forgive me...someday. It doesn't have to be today.
Because today,
today I say goodbye.
Door? Locked.
Windows? Covered.
Fridge? Emptied.
Closet? Emptied too.
Clothes? All packed up and ready to either be sold or taken with me.
Phone?
β¦
All contacts removed.
Maybe I should block them too. Just to make sure they canβt fine me.
β¦why am I doing this? Deep down, I donβt want to do this. And I know everyone will tell me I donβt have to do it.
But I have to. I canβt risk anything.
I
feel tired.
And I donβt feel real. I feel like Iβve died again. But I know Iβm still alive. I can see everything clearly. Too clearly.
Itβsβ¦too much. I can feel the cold wind, my phone, the floor. Everything.
I hate this.
I hate everythingβ¦
((OOC: fun fact! im listening to fool me not by rattlepate while writing all of current jims interactions. its my current go to song i listen to in order to lock in on angst))
(Vanilla heard him crying. Before walking in he removed the ghostwalker from his stomach)
(He knocks letting Jim know heβs there)
Hey⦠Need anything? I heard you from down the hall.
[OPEN INT]
Jim stood in his kitchen, the dough in the bowl not being kneaded as he stared with tears. The king was gone. That shouldnβt have hurt, heβs seen many versions of the king, even dead ones. But finding out one that wasnβt dead is has now died, that stung.
He threw the bowl to the floor before crying like the kid he was treated as. He wasnβt a kid anymore, so why wasnβt he acting like one right now? Why wasnβt he manning up? Why this, why that, why everything.
Why?
Why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why-
He cowered, in his kitchen, crying his eyes out as the bowl laid upside down, keeping the escaped dough covered in vain. The air felt suffocating as he kept muttering βwhyβ.
What do you do?