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Herobrine - The True Story of why he was removed.
I just want to be friends. I dont have any. I wonder around the blocky world aimlessly, muttering to myself under my breath. Why do people fear me? Why do people run away from me? Sometimes I just want to feel loved, cared for, but noone truely cares. I am cold, I am tired, I am hungry, I am thirsty. Noone cares about me.
I continue to wonder down my mineshaft, all I could observe were the rusty tracks of the abandoned railway, as cobwebs hang down from the stone above. A solitary tear drops from my glaring, white eyes. I am all alone, cold.
"Right now, Steve is probably preparing some sort of trap, or hiding from me" I mutter to myself. "Probably afraid of me, scared, worried". I just want to be noticed, sometimes we all need a hug, but rejection is my only friend.
I lay myself down, the stone that I lay on feels like nails digging into my back. I toss and turn, but no position suits comfortably.
"If only I were loved, maybe someone would offer me a bed, or atleast some wool."
My stomach makes noises of what seemed like a dying whale, while my throat is aching, dry, demanding a drink of water. But I cant really do anything. I cant show myself, I cant rise to the surface. I would be killed, targeted, instantly.
Why am I the bad guy? All I see on the internet is haunted stories about me, blogs answering whether or not I exist. Why do I get the blame? I just want to be like the rest. I may have a disability, but that doesn't make me a monster. You guys are the monster, not me! Stop referring to me as the bad guy. I just want to be friends, and play with you.
I have given up. Noone really cares. I have given up trying to communicate with you guys. I want to be friendly, but all you do is scream and run away. Sorry, I didn't know bright, white eyes scared you. I can't help it.
I hear the sounds of creaking footsteps, the ambience of breathing, mining, eating, frightens me.
To me, you guys seem like the devil. Not me. I notice a small figure appear from the misty, grey dust emitted from the mineshaft. The figure gets bigger, and bigger. The sounds get louder, and louder. I lift myself of the rusty nails, the sharp rocks the lay beneath me. The figure looks almost noticable now. It was blue, various shades of blue. It looked like me, but without gleaming eyes. It was Steve. The thing that hated me, the thing that was scared of me. The thing that wanted to KILL me. I have given in. I close my eyes, rest my head, as I hear the sound of his shiny, gazing
diamond sword sling across his armour. A final tear drops from my eye. Before I cou....
I just want to be friends. I dont have any. I wonder around the blocky world aimlessly, muttering to myself under my breath. Why do people fear me? Why do people run away from me? Sometimes I just want to feel loved, cared for, but noone truely cares. I am cold, I am tired, I am hungry, I am thirsty. Noone cares about me.
I continue to wonder down my mineshaft, all I could observe were the rusty tracks of the abandoned railway, as cobwebs hang down from the stone above. A solitary tear drops from my glaring, white eyes. I am all alone, cold.
"Right now, Steve is probably preparing some sort of trap, or hiding from me" I mutter to myself. "Probably afraid of me, scared, worried". I just want to be noticed, sometimes we all need a hug, but rejection is my only friend.
I lay myself down, the stone that I lay on feels like nails digging into my back. I toss and turn, but no position suits comfortably.
"If only I were loved, maybe someone would offer me a bed, or atleast some wool."
My stomach makes noises of what seemed like a dying whale, while my throat is aching, dry, demanding a drink of water. But I cant really do anything. I cant show myself, I cant rise to the surface. I would be killed, targeted, instantly.
Why am I the bad guy? All I see on the internet is haunted stories about me, blogs answering whether or not I exist. Why do I get the blame? I just want to be like the rest. I may have a disability, but that doesn't make me a monster. You guys are the monster, not me! Stop referring to me as the bad guy. I just want to be friends, and play with you.
I have given up. Noone really cares. I have given up trying to communicate with you guys. I want to be friendly, but all you do is scream and run away. Sorry, I didn't know bright, white eyes scared you. I can't help it.
I hear the sounds of creaking footsteps, the ambience of breathing, mining, eating, frightens me.
To me, you guys seem like the devil. Not me. I notice a small figure appear from the misty, grey dust emitted from the mineshaft. The figure gets bigger, and bigger. The sounds get louder, and louder. I lift myself of the rusty nails, the sharp rocks the lay beneath me. The figure looks almost noticable now. It was blue, various shades of blue. It looked like me, but without gleaming eyes. It was Steve. The thing that hated me, the thing that was scared of me. The thing that wanted to KILL me. I have given in. I close my eyes, rest my head, as I hear the sound of his shiny, gazing
diamond sword sling across his armour. A final tear drops from my eye. Before I cou....
| Credit | Dubzayy, for giving me some ideas :) |
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