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Welcome to College, Lllama.

Welcome to a place where alcohol replaces adrenaline, where sex is not forbidden and bondage is not something reserved for people you don't know in situations far different than yours. Welcome to a place where you're expected to experiment, to find out who you are.

Welcome to bills and books and classes you could skip if you really wanted to.

Welcome to the Den of Apathy.

You don't belong with the other freshmen, you don't belong with the upperclassmen. You don't belong in frat parties, and you don't belong in the "clean living" quarters. No one is what they seem to be anymore, least of all you. The world is a place full of masks that the wearers forget they ever put on. Everything is empty, everything is falling apart. No one is real anymore, everything's so flawed. Put on a mask, change it at a whim, to match the crowd you're with. Don't look back, don't think back, don't let the past bother you. It's not wrong, you were just experimenting. You're just finding out who you are. Don't think about it. Don't think.

Fate carries you along, preventing you from falling away to the side. You float effortlessly from one person to another, mingling with the rest of the driftwood on the river, never staying in one place too long, never caring long enough to stay. Not that you don't care about them, indeed, it's the last thing you'll ever care about. Every interaction is full of all the passion that you should be putting into life, because they're all you have left in a world that's gone cold and remote, but even that cannot save you, you're already fading away.

And now not even their comforting arms and empty gazes can reach you, for you're too far away, lost in musings on your approaching doom, and nothing makes you feel better anymore, for you've become as cold and empty as the world. They're no longer people, but mere objects of fate, and so are you, it's no use fighting destiny anymore, just let things run their course, just let things reach their final destination. Don't fight it, it will only hurt you more. You become all the things you've ever hated, a final insult to what's left of who you used to be, a final blow to separate the past from you. The past is gone, nothing stays, everything is fading away. Days no longer separate, the sun holds no light for you. There's no one to talk to, no one can understand, they're already too far away, headed along the same course as you, but blindfolded. At least you know what is in store for you. At least you will not fall over the cliff blind.

Hurt the things you care about, destroy the ones you said you loved. It doesn't matter, you were right all along. He turned you away, it was his own damn fault. You were drunk, you were tired, you were broken. Don't think about it. For the love of all that's left of goodness don't think about it! Run away, hide away, put on so many masks you won't even be able to find yourself, erase the past, live from day to day, hour to hour. Find someone, cling to someone, hide, go further away from yourself, you're all the things you hate, you've taken them all into yourself, don't think about it. Don't think. Pining for a past you cannot have, you can barely remember. It was his own fault. You weren't his. Don't blame yourself. Of course they're fighting, they always fight. Things are as they ever were. Nothing's changed.

Scream into the wind and hurl yourself against the wall. Something's got to break, something has to change. Things cannot be this way forever, why does nothing ever change? How can everyone still be the same, how can we all go on like this, until the end of time, the same place with a few new faces, nothing's really different. Why can't you get out? What kind of hellish trap is this you've devised for yourself? What is this place that never changes despite everything you throw into the system? Why are you the only thing really falling apart? Now you are truly falling apart. No one can touch you, the toxins keep them all at bay. Your body is as before, but the soul is shrivelled inside, dying from the poisons it created to save itself. You're already dying, and no one can hear your last silent screams.

Or maybe you just want to be messed up beyond all repair.

Nothing's real, no one can be trusted. Your senses are the enemy, your thoughts betray you at every step. Nothing is safe, but your life is never at danger. That, at least, is safe. It's not done playing with you. You're not done playing with you. There are still plans, you're trying to slowly drive yourself mad, and it's working. Where now will you turn? You cannot hide forever, you cannot hide from yourself. You cannot undo the damage you've already done to yourself and those who would help you, the bonds are already cut. In a moment, you will fall. Will that moment last for ages? Will that moment last until the end of time? Or is it instead tomorrow, or the next day, that brings your doom? Will you ever see the sun again? Will you ever take another breath? You cannot get out. Even now, the whispers of your undoing are upon the wind. Mad, mad. You cannot get out.

Is this how you will live? Or will you fight? Wouldn't we all fight, given the chance?

Something has to change, something's going to change. Not tomorrow, but today, this instant. Something is going to change, for I will not live like this. Something is going to change, for I will not let myself become empty as the world. Something must change, for I will not allow myself to become that which I hate. Something changes now. Everything changes now.

Somewhere a piano plays, the echos making it unearthly. Somewhere they speak as they always have. Somewhere life goes on. But here, there is a girl crying, though the tears cannot reach the surface. Here, in an ugly little hallway in an obscure part of the campus center, everything is about to change.

Welcome to the World, Lllama.