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It is safe to say Shadow Milk Cookie is a narcissist, right?
Would you ever expect a narcissist to kill themselves?
Most uneducated people would not.
Shadow Milk used to ask himself, "When will the uneducated people learn? When will they understand?" He had not gotten the answer back then.
And now, he was sure he never would.
Laying down in his black and blue bed, barely clothed. All his cherished blankets and pillows were shaped around his body to form some kind of barrier against him and other people. Shadow Milk told himself he would stop wondering about things, told himself he would stop thinking so hard about everything, but here he was pondering on why he even exists. Back into the past, it was such an aching question that he eventually let it fade into background unanswered. Why was it back now?
He did not know.
"I just NEVER know, huh?" The supposed delightful jester felt a thunderbolt of anger go through him. He gripped the knife in his hand even harder. "I'm so pathetic it's funny..." Shadow Milk began to whisper to nobody but himself. "The Fount of Knowledge, provider of answers, yet I can never seem to answer my own questions... Why was I blessed with knowledge if not to... know everything...?" He gritted his teeth. So annoying, everything is so annoying. He hated it, he hated everything.
He moved the knife to his side impulsively. He pressed the sharp tip down, but barely felt it. Was it the cold of his bedroom making his hand shake? What was that making his throat hurt? Surely not tears. Shadow Milk lifted the blade and trailed it upwards. He did not know what he was doing anymore. Maybe it was some unconscious kink that made him lay the blade between his nipples... He just wanted to make himself bleed so bad. Doesn't he deserve it?
He didn't know the answer to that question either. He didn't know anything. Not one thing.
Shadow Milk Cookie took the knife off his cold chest and set it down next to him, sitting up in his bed with some struggle while he does. Shivering, he glanced around his bedroom... soon to be just another room in the Spire. Though, it might crumble along with Shadow Milk...
The whole room was dim, covered in black and dark blue and white and bright cyan tones. Different plushies of different people he cared about were strewn around along with his clothes. Old books flipped to random pages on a dirty desk, right next to empty water cups, plates filled with old food, and his last letter to... whoever found it. Shelves littered with useless decor while the floor was covered with useless trinkets he long stopped caring about. In the middle of it all, pushed against the wall, was a disgusting excuse for someone divine or at the very least interesting. His bed was in shambles as well, topped with a knife he pulled from a random portal to try and end this horrid play with.
Yes, his life was a play. A tragedy, and it will end in one, he's decided. But is it really a tragedy if it was some good riddance?
He didn't know. Shadow Milk has never known.
He's never known what the gods wanted, he's never known his own purpose of life, he's never known his own truth, he's never known how to be emotionally intelligent, he's never known how to back off, and he's never known a reason to live.
He'll know even less once he gets this all over with.
"Uggghh..." He complained while standing up out of bed. Complaining was all he ever did, but now he'll finally stop it. He left the knife on the edge of his bed. Shadow Milk stretched his arms, yawning, and for a moment he felt good again. He bent over after, grabbing some random blue shorts from pile of clothes on his floor. He put those on with an oversized white shirt. The jester thought about wearing socks or trying not to look like a loser, but he found himself too empty to care. He glided (stumbled) over to the mirror and stood as tall as possible. His hair was dripping, a sign he was distressed. He didn't care. There was nobody to perform for right now anyway. His eyes had grey bags under them, a sign he hadn't had any good sleep for a while. He didn't care. He didn't even remember the last time he didn't have them.
The scars on his wrists, telling stories he would break a bone than tell to his closest... no, he doesn't have friends. Has he ever...? Shadow Milk clenched his fists, unkempt nails digging in. He always used to take care of them. He would file them and buff them and paint them...
He always used to take care of himself.
He will now, just in a different way.
Would Black Sapphire Cookie be proud...? No, no... Black Sapphire doesn't love Shadow Milk. He's not his friend. He never will be. Shadow Milk is above that fraud.
...
He wished he could have somebody to call a friend. Maybe that would've or could've saved him.
Shadow Milk shivered again. Seriously, why was it so cold in his bedroom right now? He could always just change the temperature but that'd take a little too much effort... He stared into the mirror once more and let his fists go limp. Shadow Milk did look beautiful past his issues. Maybe dying would be a waste of beauty.
He didn't care anymore.
Dressed enough and looking his lowest, he grabbed the handle of the knife again. He sighed internally and summoned a portal to outside his Spire, to the garden.
Right in the milkcrowns.
Whatever.
He collapsed to the dirt, knees digging into the soft ground. He unconsciously closed the portal behind him, using the knife he will use to end his life as some magical wand. He gripped the handle so hard and put his fists into the dirt, starting to cry like a child. He was ready to die. He was happy to die, so why was he crying? Maybe it was the false pressure. Wet tears dripping onto his cheeks dripped onto the ground. Tiny, tiny sprouts of milkcrowns bloomed. Shadow Milk wiped his tears once he noticed.
He took a deep breath.
He angled his knife.
He pressed the tip against his chest.
And for once, he thought before acting.
"What about Candy Apple Cookie? What about Black Sapphire Cookie? What about the other beasts? What about everything you've built all these years, about to come crashing down just because you want to throw a tantrum." Thoughts ran through his head.
Questions ran through his head.
He hated questions...
Stop it... Stop.
He doesn't know. He doesn't care.
"What about Pure Vanilla Cookie? What will he think if he ever hears that his confident, amazing other half drove a knife through his own chest?"
"What about Pure Vanilla Cookie? What if... he truly cared?"
"What if?"
"What about...?"
Shadow Milk gasped, "Shut up! I don't care, I don't know!!! I've never known, just be quiet! For once..." He began to cry again, against his will. "For once just be quiet. I don't know."
He didn't know how Candy Apple would react. He didn't know how Black Sapphire would react. He didn't know how Pure Vanilla would react. He didn't know how Burning Spice would react. He didn't know how Eternal Sugar would react. He didn't know how Mystic Flour would react. He didn't know how Silent Salt would react.
He didn't care.
But even that's a lie, too.
He tried to stop himself from glancing around to see if anybody was around to save him from himself, but he couldn't resist.
Just one last time. One last time, seeing if anybody will notice.
...
Nobody did.
So he looked back, looked forward to his garden. He felt his hands get all sweaty, but he didn't let that damned knife slip. He angled it right to his heart, and drew it back like an arrow in a bow.
Nobody knew.
So he started hyperventilating, then forced himself to stop with a hard bite to his bottom lip. He heard a whine come out. Surely that wasn't from him. He heard grass rustle. He hoped it was somebody coming to save him. He felt the milkcrowns around his scarred and fragile legs, he felt his shirt against his cut-up arms, he felt his own sweat around the handle of the blade. He saw the knife aimed at his heart, he saw his garden that he made Black Sapphire take care of, he saw the dark night sky with not even the moon noticing his suicide taking place. He could smell his own milky-blueberry scent from his dough, he could smell the flowers in the garden, he could smell the dirt. His hands shook, his skin ached from being sliced, he knew the eyes in his hair were just as distressed as him. Yet, he's still so lonely.
Nobody cared.
So Shadow Milk grit his teeth. Nobody was coming to save him. He stalled for long enough. He gripped the handle as hard as his pathetically weak dough could let him...
"But it's not worth it. Don't do it. You will always find someone who can care for you. All you have to do is speak out about it."
...and drove the knife into his heart.
Shadow Milk gasped, eyes widening as much as they did when a kind man offered friendship.
He tried to pull the knife out instinctively, but the sweat from his hands and the shaking never let him.
"Ghk-!!"
His hands started to shake even worse before they went limp and he collapsed face first to the ground of the garden. The knife drove deeper.
His face showed surprise, but he did this to himself. He didn't know why he felt so much shock. Shadow Milk didn't know anything.
His vision danced around, maybe searching for Pure Vanilla or one of his own minions.
Everything got quiet. Maybe it was his breathing stopping, or death covering his ears with it's cold, cold hands. He would never know.
And with that, his entire frail body went limp.
Hopefully, wherever his soul ends up, it won't end up back in his own disgusting body.
At least that's what Shadow Milk always wished for after death. Just to be somebody else.
...
But wishes don't matter anymore, do they?
...
Not when your mental health made everything seem like it didn't.
...
———
"Dear... whoever's reading this,
It's me, Shadow Milk Cookie! World's greatest playwright, and the best liar ever. If you see this, I've probably already killed myself. Woops! I wanted to leave a note to grace you with my grand finale... But I actually don't know what to write about.
who am i kidding?
i've been depressed for basically hundreds of years now. nobody has never noticed. so i guess i'll spell it all out for you absolute idiots. they say mental health takes everything until it takes your life. that's damn true now, and 'there's just no point in denying it.'
here's advice from someone who's lived longer than you,
don't try to understand everything. (and don't try to understand me!) it'll only make things worse. living a simple life is so much better than living an overly complex life like mine. if you get super smart, you'll only start to know less. weird, right? whatever. if you have infinite knowledge, you know nothing good. if you somehow have only a small amount of knowledge, you know everything good. and if you have the SOUL JAM of knowledge... you'll kill yourself. haha.
anyway, black sapphire cookie- take a break from watering the garden everyday. i think my blood might do the trick for a while. if you ever somehow meet Pure Vanilla Cookie again, (which i wouldn't wish on my second worst enemy), try giving him this note! he might need my advice."
...
And Shadow Milk Cookie scribed Pure Vanilla Cookie's name with extra love. Because he knew, Shadow Milk KNEW, that no matter what, Pure Vanilla would never forget him. That's just the type of person Pure Vanilla is. Maybe that's why Shadow Milk loved him so much, because Pure Vanilla noticed, cared, and knew why he did.
"P.S tuck me into the shadows and don't forget me... though i've always been ready to die."