Some things don't always go according to plan. For example, imagine you spend your entire life reading and fantasizing about isekais. Now there's a lot of problems with this, for one; you wasted nearly twenty seven years of your time on these fantasies. Secondly, you've grown to be an absolute nuisance to the people around you. Hell, not even your white parents in the Midwest want to take care of you.
You lie on your crappy bed covered in nerdy anime merch, feeling like a stain on the world's tapestry.
That stain, the insignificant mark was none other than Ashten Myers. He's been living in a hell of his own making since the day he barely graduated from highschool. There was nothing he could really do other than wait for his body to rot away. Ashten forced himself to roll off the bed onto the floor, he didn't want to ruin the apartment his parents paid for with his dead body.
The park was a quiet place, perfect for sitting by a tree. Slipping on a pair of knockoff Crocs he got from a bush near the lake, he winced as the door opened to the outside world. One of which he hadn't seen in the past week. For various reasons Ashten didn't have a name for, there were blips in his vision as he walked through dawn's light. He kept moving through, stumbling every couple of seconds. One second he was near the park gates, the next he was fumbling against a tree trying not to fall. Failing of course, but he didn't seem to care too much.
Now, there are many things he could've done before choosing to end it like this. Call his parents, his highschool ex, maybe even the old bestfriend he's had since kindergarten.
None of them would answer, he knew that much. The empty promises he had made would stay just that. Empty. A lot of what he's done can't just be over written by a new start. Though it wasn't as if he's ever been that interesting or inherently bad, it just wasn't... important to anyone.
Ashten thought for a while, a long while. Mostly about what would happen to him after he died, he hoped it would be an isekai. He smiled, it was a broken and sad smile, but it was there. Thinking about living in his favorite light novel, he wouldn't complain if it was just a random side character. He wanted a new life. Where people thought of him, and didn't want to change the subject. He'd do anything.
Within a couple minutes, the sun had risen. Ashten pulled his phone out one last time to take a look at himself in his pathetic state. He grimaced at the sight, sunken eyes, bony features, and his starvation visible. It made him embarrassed that this would be what people would see when looking into the casket—if he'd even have one that is. The greasy dark brown of his hair glistened in the light.
Ashten could hear the whispers of passersby, they only ever pitied him. Not bothered enough to offer help, and not content with just a glance. The stares pricked at his body and face, he could feel it.
As moments slipped past him, Ashten could feel his body giving up. He slowly began loosing control over his muscles. He wished he had more time. Soon enough his head rolled to his shoulder, he wasn't going to last long that was certain.
"I hope... I'm the main character.." Mumbling was the most he could manage before his eyes closed.
Yeah, no way that's coming true man. Anyways, hey there. I'm Landon and I am a creative writer with spunk. Needless to say I've been writing about that guy since he left his blinds slightly ajar. Before you go and point out that it's creepy, I am NOT a stalker.
It's unfortunate that he ended his life this way considering that I saw him as my muse, but what's done is done. I write this in my notes as we speak, it's sort of like a diary. Who ever reads this must be wondering, how'd you manage to know what he was think? Well I've just been listening to his incoherent rambles as he suffered through his last moments.
I'm not a bad person I assure you, I just took a liking to what I saw and acted on it... partially. I think I'll miss that weirdo, as strange as it may sound I've grown attached to him. Might I add that the sun is fully over the horizon, it's a bit larger than yesterday which is odd. Though it would explain the higher heat levels in the world. I doubt anyone will read this but here I am, documenting.
Most times I wonder what the times after death include, Ashten would know by now. You may not hear it but I'm sighing dramatically will whispering wistfully, "Ashten Myers.." ... I'm certain that I'll be brutally judged for this should anyone read it. Luckily enough no one will.
Should there ever be an event where I, the pride and joy of the Shtagg family died, I'll have this book burnt to a crisp. Many of my writings are subpar at best, only the excerpts from personal moments managed to break from that theme.
That definitely stemmed from me coming across Ashten, artists would have a field trip with his features. Large, monolid bug eyes, long roman nose, thin pale lips, all of his various pimples and zits on his forehead, nose and chin. In all fairness his eyebags paired nicely in some way with his bronzed irises. If I had even an ounce of artistic ability other than writing I'd draw him all day. Writing is what I do best, well out of everything else. Though I do wish I brought my phone or some sort of camera with me to tape a picture of him to this page. Its unfortunate that he died. I always did prefer to keep my distance, so that can't be helped.
If I listen closely there are soft chirps of what birds remain. It's strange, I didn't think the noise pollution had caused them to make a ringing sound. As a writer I've always thought of what life would be like if I didn't view it the way I did.
My home had always been quiet, but now that I actually come to terms with it, it seems even more so. I was more often than not absent from the building too, following Ashten's daily life had become apart of my own. I don't think I can continue in this silence, it's not where I belong. My bed seems to be the most comforting thing in this house, even with the bright red line above my head.
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"Now class, I want you to carefully analyze the authors emotions throughout the chapter. How does it make you feel? What does it tell you about their world?" The teacher droned on about Landon Shtagg's diary, Brendin could feel her face getting hot.