Dark Chocolate

A series of bittersweet oneshots that I am making. It's not related to Minecraft, but...it would be nice if no one deleted this.
==My self pity==
I took out a piece of dark chocolate I have and popped it into my mouth.
Leaning on the rails, I was looking out from a bridge. My best friend is standing besides me.
"It wouldn't matter if I die." 
I stated it like a fact.
"That not true! You have people that love you , people that will cry if you die, including me, people that-"
"People that I can't even reach without the internet or an electronic device. I'm not saying this so you will feel sorry for me. I'm simply stating the truth."
My dead eyes stare out at the abyss, morbidly curious of what would happen to my body if I ever decided to jump. Would my body be ripped apart? Will my guts and intestines spill out? Will my brain make a bloody mess on the floor? 
Somehow, those thoughts amused me.
"But-"
"They would be sad. For a while. Then they will forget. Life goes on. The earth still spins. Nothing will really change, even if I die."
"That doesn't make it alright!" They look concerned.
"It does. Am I supposed to seriously consider how others feel when I feel so fucking tired right now? I doubt most of the people that I care about would give a crap even if I disappeared off the face of earth after a year or two!"
"If you're so tired, we can just take a nap together."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
I take a step back from the rails. It feels a bit better to know that someone cares about me. But...
Water blurs a ‘small’ part of my vision as I wryly smile tiredly at my own self pity.
"You know why else this doesn't matter?"
They don't respond.
"Because you're not even real."
There was nothing more for them to say. They faded away in the wind. 
I look back at the abyss. 
I know that I will never jump. I am too cowardly for that. I just stand there and stare at the void while I wish that I cared about myself more than my delusions did.
I savor the aftertaste of the dark chocolate.
It's bittersweet.
----
==You hurt me==
I ordered my coffee and sat down. I faced away from the rest of the cafe, across from an empty booth seat, adjacent to a window looking out onto the street.
The pattern of the booth fabric caught my eye, and I looked at it, trying to make sense of it, before admiring the shelving of unique decorations this cafe displayed on the shelves above.
In a sharp voice, the name of the coffee I ordered was called out behind me, and I turned to stand up and walk to the counter.
After smiling and thanking the barista for my cup, I turned to walk back to my seat.
Halfway across, while I was looking out the windows, I saw them.
I hadn't seen them in months. I haven't heard from them for the same.
I didn't expect to see them, not here, not today.
And I didn't expect them to come in the cafe, see me, and walk up to me.
They wore no expression, or, perhaps, my mind refused to acknowledge they possessed one.
Wordlessly, we both headed back to your table. They slid into the booth. They somehow just seemed to fit the missing piece of the booth's pattern, as if they had always been there.
"It's, uh, been a .... while."
I gingerly placed down my coffee.
"I haven't .... heard from you.... in two months."
 "I know."
"We... were friends, and ... I thought we ... understood each other."
 They were silent. They wore no emotion.
"After all we did together, you just stopped answering. And I never...."
 I never what?
Never had anyone just cleave me from their life? Anyone so close just... stop? Stop caring, stop reading, stop sending, stop seeing...
But with all of these thoughts, I didn't feel sad. At least, not in the crying sense.
"You hurt me."
 "I know."
"Then why did you?"
 "I don't know."
I looked down to my coffee. The steam was swirling around it, and then disappearing.
"The worst part of all this was that I knew you cut me off because you were suffering.
And that, because of that, I couldn't help you.
I really did care for you, you know, so knowing that your pain made even me too much to bear... and that I could do nothing...
That. That was the worst part.
And the fact that it was something that you chose to do?
That hurt me too."
 They surely had some sort of reaction to this, but I could not comprehend what it would be. So their face was void.
I sipped on my coffee. It tasted sweet, compared to the words I was saying.
"I've wanted to say this for so long.
I've wanted to text it to you a million times, but I knew that it was your choice to never respond to the last message I sent. And I respected that decision."
 They were blank.
"And I suppose, what hurts the most now, is maybe the fact that I don't know how you feel. I don't know if you're happy now, or suicidal, or somewhere in between, because you've never told me.
And maybe it's the possibility that you've managed to move on, while I still am in limbo as to if I should or shouldn't care about someone who I know I knew well."
 They were a ghost.
"The fact that you're saying nothing makes you real.
Because you haven't said anything to me for what seems like an eternity."
 They were an essence.
"You hurt me."
 They were gone.
I sipped my coffee.
"And if I could ever see you again, that's what I'd say."
The coffee was sweet.
==My least favourite insect==
“Hey, ҉̴͔̭̲͇̱͉̹́？#%2 what’s your least favorite insect?”
“I…would say…I don’t really like…butterflies.”
“Butterflies? Peculiar choice. Is there a particular reason you chose butterflies?”
“The ugly caterpillar, inside of its cocoon, finally able to forget all of its worries, responsibilities and fears and the fact they are just a useless pest, suddenly starts growing beautiful wings, awoken by the unforgiving light, reminding them of the cruel fact that they are still very much alive, and even having to go as far as rip apart it’s own little cocoon in the end of the transformation. The more painful, the more blood that flows through their wings when they are in their shell, the more poisonous and beautiful their wings are. And then they start hurting again, because their wings are beautiful now and they ‘just need to live through the next day’ because they now have a reason to live. They can fly, but they can only fly lowly amongst the meadows, hiding away from the world to survive, looking up at the eagles soaring above that they will never be able to touch. In the end, death will suddenly arrive, stripping it of its last bit of happiness, taunting it, telling them how meaningless its life was. They can’t even prepare for their deaths and die valiantly; they just fall apart, falling as what remain of them drift slowly to the ground, forgotten by the rest of the world…”
“Hm. I guess I can see how butterflies are pathetic and pitiful. But why would you go as far as hate them?”
She sighed.
because they remind her too much of herself
----
W o r k I n p r o g r e s s
Category:Bella1963
Category:Creepypasta
Category:Supernatural
Category:Short Pastas
Category:Glitches