Beowulf, clad in his leather and fur armor, sits on a wooden stool, his red eyes staring at the doorway. King Hrothgar's mead hall is eerily quiet, a stark contrast of its usual chipper atmosphere. No lively drinks and feasts from warriors are present; only the sound of breathing that every Geat warrior gives.
King Hrothgar's kingdom, Heorot, has been plagued by a monster.
The king described it as an abomination. It is a grotesque creature that wreaks what seems to be shadows-smoke-like tendrils that wrap around its hulking body. Its foul scent would kill those without any will, and make the toughest of warriors fall to their knees.
He said most would stand no chance against it, and thus he called for Beowulf's aid. Most of the king's brave warriors have already fallen prey to the monster's sharp claws and fangs, having been eaten or slaughtered for entertainment. This monster they are facing, although enormous, has shown eerie quietness in its movements.
King Hrothgar never knew it entered their premises until the moment it attacked, shedding its silence and replacing it with its slaughter.
Beowulf takes a deep breath in, letting it out of his nostrils as his teeth show themselves in a full blown grin. His red eyes barely shook as he took in the sight that made most of their skin crawl. His warriors gasp, but they remain resolute upon seeing their leader's blooming grin.
The giant doors of the mead hall have opened ever so slowly, its creaking sound scraping against the souls of those present. The shivers run down their spines as cold sweat begins forming under their armors. The warriors of Geat held their breaths in anticipation, expecting the monster to pounce at them the moment the door fully opened.
Yet, behind it is barren.
Not a single thing is behind the door other than the greenery basked in the moonlit night. The sound of the nighttime wildlife accompanies the whistling of wind, and they would see the trees and blades of grass dance along with it.
Beowulf's grin turns rigid, but none notices his panic. To the warriors, Beowulf seems confident and ready to battle, but to the warrior himself, he finds the situation terrifying.
Through his eyes, the flames of life are seen, and everything that has a soul possesses such flare. Yet, he felt something enter the mead hall-a being without any soul.
He caught it within his eyes-saw it enter in a blur of speed. His nose twitched as the scent of decay enters his nostrils, vile bubbling up his throat.
Some of his warriors fell to the floor with thuds, their weapons clanging as they fell unconscious due to the scent and suffocating atmosphere. Everything felt heavy: the air, the space, their organs, and more. They felt helpless at the moment as a swirling smoke caresses their cheeks.
"Warriors of Geat!" Beowulf shouted, his grin solidifying as he slammed his shortsword onto his shield. "Arise and let us face this threat with courage and valor! Awake your souls! Awake your flames!"
Then, Beowulf looked up, his red eyes locking on the gigantic figure that hung from the ceiling.
"Fear us, foul beast!" Beowulf grinned, abandoning any hesitation he had. "For the might of warriors will bring you down, tonight!"
The beast, the monster, Grendel, roared as he dropped from the ceiling. His feet crushed those unfortunate enough to get caught under them. The clawed hands slammed onto his hulking hairy chest as he let out a roar that pushed the warriors back, sending furniture flying.
Beowulf, however, stood his ground with an unwavering grin.
"Tonight is your peril, beast!" He roared as he surged forward.
His warriors followed without hesitation, seeing their leader fighting without fear.
Grendel snarled as he picked up a man, crushing the mortal within his grip. Then, he threw the corpse at Beowulf.
The man ducked under the body, and the warriors behind him stepped out of the way. The gruesome sound of flesh melding with the floor haunted the ears of those present.
Beowulf swung his sword, aiming at the beast's leg. The man grinned widely, intending to bring the monster to his knees.
His eyes widened ever so slightly as his weapon shattered on contact with the tough skin of Grendel.
The monster roared at the attempt, arms raised and swung at the warriors. The blows splattered the mortals onto the floor, ending their lives in an instant.
"Warriors of Geat!" Beowulf shouted, grabbing Grendel by the ankle. "Tend to the wounded! We're no match against this monstrosity!"
With all of his might, Beowulf dug his fingers deep onto Grendel's ankle. That damaged the monster, surprising Beowulf as he grinned at the wrathful wails of their foe.
"I'll take it from here!" Beowulf laughed, pulling Grendel.
The monster is lifted from the ground, making it claw at the floor. The warriors watched in awe as Beowulf threw Grendel to the doorway, breaking the front and sending Grendel rolling across the grass.
"Retreat for now!" Beowulf ordered as he jumped back at Grendel.
Grendel saw Beowulf jump in front of him, making the monster claw at the ground in order to charge forth. The beast roared, breaking the silence that once plagued the kingdom of Heorot.
Seeing this, Beowulf reared his fist back with his signature toothy grin.
"Meet your end, beast!" Beowulf laughed as his fist sailed forward.
Grendel had swung forth with his right arm, claws ready to kill the warrior that dared stop his slaughter.
The mortal's fist connected with the swipe, his fist making contact with the beast's claws.
Grendel wailed in agony, clutching its broken hand, slowly healing as the pain subsides.
The monster looked at the mortal with fear in his eyes. His body shook as his chest heaved in an erratic breathing pattern.
Tonight, Grendel felt his world shatter in an instant, and the roles have switched.
The monster felt he never was the monster here tonight.
It was the smaller man who grinned.
...
Mars teeth threaten to shatter as his jaw presses tightly. His golden eyes shimmer under the burning sun, shaking in an uncontrolled fit of fury.
He stares at the grinning mortal-no, he glares at Beowulf.
How can he, Mars, fall short against the battle of physicality?
"Charge..." Mars growls, his weapon shifting in a scimitar of larger size-easily three times his size. "Charge, everyone!"
He barks an order to none but himself.
The ground shattered to pieces as Mars left his prior spot, appearing above Beowulf.
The mortal did not register the speed, trusting solely on his battle instincts as he leans back and flips.
Mars slashes down. Reality cries as the force rips it from its seams, the space tearing at the physical prowess of the dubbed weakest link.
From everyone's eyes, the world turns pitch black for a split moment before a thunderous crash breaks their sense of hearing.
The gladiator style arena began descending, slowly approaching the ground.
"No way!" Heimdall screeches as he points at Mars who is falling. "Yes way! Mars successfully broke reality's barrier! Now, the arena is really doomed to crash down! It's decimated!"
The two halves of the arena are nothing but roughly diced and broken chunks of rubble now.
Mars seethes at the sight of Beowulf dodging the attack. Veins pulses and bulges on his forehead and temples as his golden eyes shake and dilate.
Then, his scimitar shifts into a giant hammer.
"Charge forth!" Mars snarls, his vocal cords tearing apart as he swings his hammer down.
The space quaked in fear, its rumbling drowned by the beating of Mars's heart.
"Break! Apart!" Mars roars, the force of his swing finally rushing forth after a short delay.
Reality finally registers the effect of Mars's attack.
The entire arena is instantly sent down, flattened by the force. The deafeaning crash bursts the ears of the unfortunate, with some falling unconscious as collateral.
"Now I gotta help healing while doing commentary," Heimdall grumbles, summoning some magic to heal the wounded which is mostly humanity. "Well, folks! It seems like Mars is pushing his body to its maximum! Do you hear the drums of war?! DO YOU HEAR HIS HEART BEATING TO WAR?!"
Beowulf lies mangled underneath the rubble of the arena. Thrúd embraces the warrior, protecting him as she heals his wounded form.
Bones that protrude out of his skin finally sink back to his body and snap back to their respective areas. His mashed flesh slowly stitches themselves back, the fibers joining once more for battle. Soon enough, the blood-drenched mortal is back to his usual chipper form.
Yet, he is still under the rubble.
"What a magnificent display of strength!" Beowulf laughs, unbothered by the dust and rocks falling into his mouth. "Let's see how long you last, god of war!"
His arms twitch upwards, sending debris and rubble away, clearing his vision and freeing his body. The man jumps to a standing position, his red eye staring into the skies, his teeth now glimmering once more.
"Mars! Perhaps, you got any more of that fight?!" Beowulf laughs, spitting out the rocks inside his mouth as his stance welcomes any attacks.
'I must avoid an attack like that, or else I will fall,' Beowulf whispers within his mind. 'Thrúd heals me, but I am sure to die if exposed to that much damage repeatedly.'
The mortal's eye widens before he takes a step back.
A giant montante embeds itself in front of him, a chain connected to its pommel rattling wildly.
Soon, the montante bursts into a long chain that surges forth and threatens to bind Beowulf.
"I've faced worse!" Beowulf chuckles, grabbing the chain and pulling with all of his might.
Mars is brought down, but not before the Roman god pulls back.
Beowulf yelps as he is pulled, the chains wrapping around Mars as he spins, continuously bringing the mortal closer to him.
"The soldiers, they rage!" Mars growls at Beowulf, having pulled the mortal inches away from him. "We require—I MUST SEE YOU DIE!"
The way Mars's body flexes releases the chain's hold around his body, before letting it wrap around Beowulf.
'Too fast!' Beowulf grunts within his mind, feeling the chains tighten around him.
Soon, the chain grew serrated blades, digging into the mortal's body.
"Very good-"
Beowulf's laugh is cut short as Mars roars.
"THEY ROAR!" The Roman god announces, his voice echoing throughout the realms.
Then, the chain started spinning at high speed, cutting Beowulf over and over again, shredding his skin and flesh.
Mars yanks the chain as he lands on the ground, under the floating stadium.
The god of war proceeds to slam the cocooned Beowulf onto the ground, caving it and deforming the flattened earth.
The chained man is dragged around, Mars pulling and swinging around to slam Beowulf as the serrated blades tear into his body.
'Thrúd, you okay there?!' Beowulf asks his partner.
The eyes of the bear glow faint blue as his wounds close, only to reopen as the chaotic chain rips him apart.
'I'm giving my best here!' Thrúd grunts, and Beowulf hears the panic in her voice.
"F-fear not, milady," Beowulf says through his torn lips. "We s-shall come out victorious!"
The mortal grunts, pushing his right arm through the tiny gap between the metallic cocoon.
His arm lost its flesh.
Yet, his hand grabs the ground, gripping it with all the strength he can muster.
"DIE!" Mars yanks the chain upon seeing the attempt.
Beowulf did not budge. In return, Beowulf pulls on the ground before tilting the cocoon.
The man spins the cocoon, bringing Mars closer in swift action.
The god slams onto the metallic prison, and the chain loosened the moment Mars's grip lost some strength.
Beowulf's right arm, although thinner due to the lost flesh, still mends itself back together as his hand grips the god's throat.
'SLICE HIS ARM OFF!'
'MAKE HIM BLEED!'
'NO! NO! NO! RUN! PLEASE! I BEG OF YOU!'
'SILENCE TO ALL!'
'WAR TO ALL!'
"W-war won't e-end here," Mars forces out of his squeezed windpipe. "I w-won't let it!"
...
"I won't stop," Mars grunts, thumbs pressed onto the dirt as he pushes his body up. "A million more push-ups. This body shouldn't stop just yet!"
On his back sits a rectangular box and a muscular deity that lacks height. His skin is light orange, and his hair is fiery orange that is akin to a lion's mane, with embers and cinders falling off and burning. He wears a sleeveless dark tunic and pants. On his back is a massive axe with a hammer as its back.
"Tsk, your body will die if you push this much, Mars," the deity grunts, scratching at his long beard and mustache. "Aye, you will meet your peril once the ache of the body catches you, lad. Your soul is strong, but the body has its limitations."
"I don't fucking care, Vulcan," Mars growls, feeling his thumbs ready to snap. "Go find me some fucks to give! Add more universes into the box, damn it!"
"To add more universes, I shall not," Vulcan snorts. "I've already ran out of universes to add a few days back. Why do you think I've been sitting around on your back rather than going back to my beloved forge?"
"I don't know! Tired or some shit?!" Mars snarls, his golden eyes glaring at the ground. "It's not heavy enough! I must endure more and do more! Do something about it!"
"And I said, I will not. You either take what you can or lose all of it," Vulcan flares his nostrils, sky blue eyes glaring at Mars's head. "Go on then, lad. Try me," the Roman god of fire and forge lets out flames from his ears and nose.
Then, slowly, the surrounding area started bubbling as fire and lava rose from the ground. The trees splinter and burst to flames while the skies burn with meteors. The ground under the two slowly melts, making it hard for Mars to steady himself as only small portions of dirt remain solid.
"This is it, Mars," Vulcan sighs, eyes softening. "It's the full length that I can help you with. Go and request for the other Roman deities to aid you in your quest to be stronger," the orange god looks at the burning skies as Mars continues to train until failure.
"Like they would help-"
"They would," Vulcan immediately cuts him off.
"How would you know that, huh?!" Mars snarls at the deity on his back. "Why would the others help me?!"
Mars felt Vulcan stand on his back. Then, an axe's blade pressed on the side of his neck.
"We're the Roman Pantheon, boy," Vulcan growls. "Barely there anymore is what we are."
The Roman god of fire and forge pressed a tad bit harder on Mars's neck, drawing blood that sizzles and evaporates upon hitting the lava underneath his body.
Then, he laughed good-heartedly upon feeling Mars's shocked reaction.
"Why would such an irrelevant and small family not help its kin, eh?!"
...
"N-never did they give up o-on this," Mars chuckles weakly under the pressure, feeling his throat ripping apart under Beowulf's grip before letting out a full-blown laugh. "W-why would war g-give up on them, e-eh?!"
Metal shifts as a gigantic gauntlet grips Beowulf's body. This, in turn, releases Mars from his grip, making the god of war laugh even more as he slowly rises.
The epic hero spreads the fingers of the gauntlet apart as he gazes at Mars with a smirk.
"Good things end, but it won't be me," Mars spits at the ground before rearing his fist back. "Here's a fucking move from Pluto!"
The space shakes violently as the fist sails towards Beowulf's chest, only to stop an inch away from it.
"Bitch," Mars snorts as he flicks a finger at Beowulf.
His weapon gets out of the way as the flick sends Beowulf flying, his ribs shattering at the attack.
Beowulf stares at the skies, flabbergasted by the move as Mars reappears just above him with a shit-eating grin.
"Kidding, here's Pluto's fighting style for you," Mars snickers, stabbing a pitchfork deep within Beowulf's bowels.
The Roman god of war kicks the pitchfork deeper, standing on the blunt end of the weapon on one leg.
Then, he spins on his heel, twisting the pitchfork with a sadistic gleam in his golden eyes.
Beowulf growls, maintaining his toothy grin even with a few missing teeth. The move snapped his spine from the midsection, and Thrúd is already working on healing him. With Mars twisting the weapon even more, the healing will not commence.
The mortal grits his teeth, hands locking at the two points of the pitchfork. Swiftly, he pushes it up and sends Mars flying.
"Not too much for the sadistic play of Pluto, eh?" Mars jokes as he yawns within the air. Then his expression shifts into a serious one. "How about the swiftness of Neptune?"
As Beowulf's spine snaps back to its place, a trident speeds towards his neck.
The man rolls out of the way, but the trident merely flips swiftly, almost piercing his head as he keeps on rolling away.
The epic hero slams his arms onto the ground, sending his body flying upwards.
Now that the man is standing, Mars appears next to him with the same cold and calculated stare.
"Swift and precise," Mars lets out a scoff as he spins the trident in his grasp. "The way of Neptune. Unrelenting as the ocean, and unending as the waves."
Mars thrusts forward with his trident.
Beowulf ducks to the left, the trident nicking his right shoulder.
Another thrust finds its way towards Beowulf's chest.
One to the left arm.
One to his head.
One to his right thigh.
One to his left shin.
One to his abdomen.
All in a matter of a split moment.
Blood bursts out of his wounds as he is sent back, barrelling due to the force. Beowulf almost lost his consciousness as the trident had struck his forehead, but due to Thrúd's effort, he remains awake.
As his body slams onto the ground, his instincts roar at him.
His grin turns grim as Mars already positions himself right at his healing legs.
"It seems like Neptune's style got you beat," Mars hums, his eyes still narrow as his expression holds barely any emotion.
"I may not be of a match against you and your weapon..." Beowulf chuckles as his body spins after one last slam, and once he is rotating to face Mars, he laughs. "But I am not alone in this fight as well, god!"
Beowulf sees Mars's trident thrusting forward as he faces him.
The man blocks with his hand, letting the weapon pierce through it with ease.
"Heal it, milady!" Beowulf laughs.
Soon, the wound closes around the trident, locking it inside his arm.
...
"S-snap out of it," Ares forced out of his throat, a gladius piercing his abdomen. "Y-you've already won the fight... You've already beaten dozens of war deities... What more can you possibly want?!"
Ares stared at the emotionless eyes of Mars, groaning in pain as the Roman god twisted the blade inside his body. One hand gripped his throat, slowly crushing it.
The Greek did not see this event ever unfolding. Ares never expected Mars to gain such strength in just a few decades-a short time for deities like them. Yes, he heard that Mars never rested, but he still possessed no magic to boast whatsoever, and thus pure physical training will not suffice.
Mars stood in the middle of a bloodbath, the essence of divine coating every inch of his being as his gladius hissed, letting drops of blood join the ocean of red that soaked his legs.
The beating of his heart rang loudly across the battlefield, and his eyes shook violently.
"W-what you're doing to your body... It will be the one that kills you..." Ares gasped for air, the fingers around his neck viciously tightening.
"Is it terrifying?" Mars whispered, his tone laced by nothing but pure hatred. His golden eyes showed no remorse as Ares struggled to breathe. "No magic, but all of you, deities of war, barely put up a fight!"
The heart of the Roman banged against his chest, the Greek feeling every heartbeat pounding against his body and soul.
"T-the more you force your body to ignore its limitations... T-the more you pursue t-this power... The stronger y-you become, b-but at the cost of your life!" Ares raised a hand, weakly gripping Mars's arm.
"Not like I had something going on in my life," Mars laughed, raising Ares higher. "So, it doesn't really matter if I die doing everything in my power to stay stronger than any of you so called deities, gods, and goddesses. What matters most is that I'm strong. When I'm strong, I have a purpose. With a purpose, war lives on."
Ares stared at Mars's eyes, teeth gritted as his consciousness slowly slipped away.
"I'm going to keep you conscious," Mars snorted, gripping a tad bit tighter. "But, make sure no one, and I mean not a single deity, finds out what happened here. Got that?"
"This is proof that I am stronger than any of you combined," his golden eyes dilate as his heart skipped a beat. "All of you went against me today, and none of you brought me down!"
Two beats, skipped, but Mars did not notice.
Ares did, however.
"Y-you'll die!" Ares's eyes shook, teeth gritted, but his body did not have any energy left to retaliate.
"Call me the weakest, I don't care!" Mars's chest heaves up and down, his heart skipping more and more beats, and yet the thundering sound of it barely ceases. "But remember this, Ares! All of you war deities here in this bloody war-torn field, remember this fucking day!"
His heart banged louder, its beats quaking the realms as his body suffered, unable to hold the circulating power coursing through his veins.
"Remember! Make these fools remember!" Mars slammed Ares onto the ground, rippling the ankle-deep blood.
"I, the weakest of them all ain't so weak after all," Mars huffed, his body trembling as his eyes shook.
He stood over Ares's body, the Greek barely staying conscious as Mars took a step back.
Then, the war drums faded as Mars's heart weakened. His beating heart faded, merely a whisper now as the thunderous drumming died.
Thus, Mars fell back, his body coated by the blood of the divines he had fought today.
...
Beowulf pulls his arm back, taking away Mars's weapon for a moment.
Mars's golden eyes turn heart-shaped, pulsating and beating as his palms open widely.
Palm strikes riddle Beowulf's chest, caving it in and making the mortal vomit blood, splattering it on Mars's body.
"Aww, the cutie can't handle a little love from Venus?" Mars giggles, whipping his right leg to a roundhouse kick on Beowulf's abdomen.
Mars grabs the trident stuck inside Beowulf's arm, pulling as his kick sends the mortal to the ground. The sound of ripping flesh filled brings joy to the war god, giggling at the pained grunt of the Geat.
His heart rumbles like a thousand war drums echoing to battle. Beowulf feels every beat barrelling into every fiber of his body, and he cannot help but feel overwhelmed by the sensation.
'T-to force one's body just to win...' Beowulf grunts within his mind. 'I can even hear his overflowing blood. His body cannot withstand prolonged abuse like this.'
"Don't worry about me now," Beowulf laughs, his arm healing as he acts.
He throws himself up, facing the giggling god.
His fist surges forward but Mars merely takes a step back.
The gruesome sound of popping joints fills Mars's ears as Beowulf's fist strikes his face, cracking his skull and sending him flying.
Mars lands dozens of meters away.
'Fucker really dislocated his arm just to reach me?' Mars laughs within his mind as his heart beats louder and wilder. "FUCK YEAH! GIVE ME MORE, DAMN YOU!"
Mars jumps up, weapon morphing into his usual gladius.
The god watches at Beowulf pop his joints back to their rightful sockets, grinning menacingly at the war god.
"You'll have more of me, yes, you will!" Beowulf laughs, rushing forth with his and the bear pelt's eyes glowing red and blue respectively. "Have more of me until you finally rest defeated!"
Mars's heart roars, steam rising from his body as his skin starts turning reddish as blood circulates faster than before. Steam bursts out of Mars's nose, as he too, grins.
Then, both rush at each other, ready to continue their clashes.
...
Amaterasu is not easily surprised by anything, as she has seen a lot in her existence.
Yet, Jupiter surprised her.
The Shinto chief stares at the Roman chief with curious and surprised eyes.
She watches as Jupiter's hands would tremble ever so slightly, opening slightly and closing—a gesture that he proceeded to do for three whole minutes after Mars decided to abandon his limits and force his body to power.
'Worried?' Amaterasu hums, a small smile adorning her face which she hid behind her kimono sleeve. 'My, my... He is such a father.'
Amaterasu gazes upon the broken battlefield under the stadium.
'If it were my child, I'd have the same reaction. I just didn't expect it from Jupiter out of all the deities,' her eyes narrow at Mars. 'Though, Mars is killing himself here. Just... what exactly is he trying to prove by risking his life in Ragnarok? He can only be so strong for mere minutes before his limits finally break his entire being apart...'
Then, she sees steam rising from Mars's body.
'What drives him to have no regard for his life?' Amaterasu smiles at the scene of Mars smiling. 'But! It is my first time seeing the kid this happy. Maybe that's it.'
Amaterasu giggles to herself.
"Eh? What are you giggling at, miss Shinto chief?" Loki floats in front of her, upside down and mere inches away from her eyes.
"Oh, nothing at all, Loki," she waves him off, gently pressing a palm on his cheeks and pushing him to the side.
"Just piecing things together is all."
"What is it?" Loki asks, whining almost.
"Nothing~!" Amaterasu giggles.
And she laughs gently as Loki tries to make her spill.
...
"YEAH! GO GET HIM, SISTER THRÚD, BEOWULF!" Göll shouts loudly, her voice trembling as she sees Mars struggling to keep up with their champion.
"Hmm, Mars should die in a few minutes," Brunhilde hums, a sadistic smirk plastered on her face. "The way I see it, Beowulf and Thrúd have this one already. They'll win, surely."
"To physically outclass Mars, Beowulf sure surprised even me," Freya chuckles, watching the chaos brew under them. "He is strong, having killed Unyieldings with just his physical might, but now that he can go all out without breaking his body thanks to Thrúd, reality struggles to maintain itself with Beowolf's strength."
"It makes one wonder, sister," Brunhilde chuckles, fingers tracing her cheeks. "What came to the deities when they created Beowulf, I do not know, but they did not see this coming to bite them back."
"Enough talking though," Freya laughs, gripping the railings of their platform. "More cheering! GO AND PULVERIZE THAT GOD, YOU TWO! BURY HIM! DROWN HIM IN HIS OWN BLOOD!"
Seeing this, Brunhilde just giggles. It is good to see her sisters enjoying themselves.
...
As Beowulf and Mars meet, the god slashes down.
Beowulf catches the blade between his palms.
Mars laughs maniacally as the blade elongates and snake towards the mortal.
Then, his eyes widened.
The sound of snapping metal hauntingly rings to Mars's ears.
The Roman god stumbles back, looking at his weapon.
His gladius has been snapped in two, a mere few inches left in its guard.
His eyes tremble as he looks at the blade between Beowolf's palms.
The handle of his gladius pulsed for the last time as it hisses quietly.
"D-damn..." Mars says through gritted teeth. "Sorry about that, Vulcan. Work down the drain."
Without another word, Mars swings at Beowulf with the remaining blade.
Everything shattered around them, reality blinking to black and back as the force rattled the foundation of existence.
The field is terraformed-merely a wasteland now.
Mars stares at Beowulf, watching the mortal heal from his wounds.
The god saw him dodge the attack, but it was enough as the force littered the man with cuts and bruises.
Still, he healed and Mars stared at the crumbling piece of metal in his hand.
His blade is no more.
His body is his only weapon now.
Thus, he charges forth, his skin reddish as his beating heart bangs louder and louder.
{•===To Be Continued===•}
Yo! I'm going through some things right now. Life is cruel, but it is what it is.
Keep on commenting everyone, it keeps me going! What are your thoughts? Tell me!