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Summary
Tyler’s gone. Just like that, a blow to the head, and he’s disappeared.
I wonder how much of Tyler was me, and how much it was another man. By idolizing Tyler, had I, and everyone else, been idolizing myself the entire time? Or a new, completely different version of me? Had it ever been me?
I am Jack’s silly questions. I am Jack’s knowledge that Tyler isn’t real, and all along, he had been me. I am Jack’s stupidity and brain urging him to shut up and try to get some sleep.
But I can’t sleep without Tyler anymore.
(Or, the Narrator struggles to cope with Tyler’s disappearance and notes down his incoherent thoughts in his diary.)
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Bookmark Notes:
this is so pride month
love it but @a/n "emotionally constipated middle-aged men" they are NOT middle aged!!!!