A/N: My first Once-ler fanfic. Hope you like!

I'm so proud of me

A young 8-year-old boy sat slouched on the hard wooden floor, his pitch black bangs falling into his face. Tears welled up in his eyes and threatened to fall out, but Once-ler blinked them back. He couldn't allow himself to show weakness. Not now.

A few inches in front of him stood a tower made of building blocks, a tower that had literally taken him hours to build. It was quite complicated, especially with the cheap wooden blocks that he had, with spiraling pathways and columns about a foot high, supporting a wide roof. Once-ler just loved to tinker, to invent, to bring to reality the visions he saw in his mind. Unfortunately, nobody seemed to care about it but him. The structure that he had built was rather crude-looking in many places, but even so, it wasn't so bad.

At least, that's what he had thought. When he had finished building his tower, full of pride and happiness, he had run to his mother and showed her his masterpiece. She had looked it up and down with an expressionless face, then turned to him and said, in her fake sweet voice, "Now come on, Oncie. If you're going to play with building blocks like a little baby, can't you at least do it right?" Then she had sighed. "Oh, never mind…I guess you'll never amount to much anyway, so why bother?" And with that, she had turned and walked away.

Now the structure that he had put so much of his heart and soul into seemed like nothing. It was just a monumental representation of yet another failure. Reaching out with one of his long arms, he sadly rubbed his finger against one of the blocks on the edge.

What can I do? the boy thought to himself. Nothing I ever do seems to make her happy… He grabbed a couple of extra blocks lying at his side and placed them at the very top. Maybe…if I make it BIGGER, and cooler…then she'll be proud of me, right? A glimmer of hope began to rise in his chest and he began to build some more.

But before he could get very far, two sets of feet could be heard banging on the floor, heading straight toward him. Once-ler looked up and cried out in dismay, but it was too late. Bret and Chet barreled through his structure, smashing it to pieces, and ran out of the room without glancing back.

Just like that, his beautiful tower had been reduced to a pile of rubble. Hearing the noise, Once-ler's mom poked her head out form behind a wall. "Seriously, Oncie?" she said. "You're still playing with those?" the woman sighed and turned back to whatever she was doing. "You'll always be a failure, Oncie. You know that?"

Once-ler grimaced as her words pierced him in the heart like a knife. He turned to his fallen structure, noticed part of it was still standing, and kicked it down with his foot. Then he huddled into a ball and buried his face into his knees as the silent tears began to fall.

...

Once-ler lay in his bed staring up at the ceiling, his large blue eyes wide open. Across the room, his two brothers could be heard snoring softly.

He couldn't sleep, though he wasn't sure why. What had happened today was practically routine. It wasn't the first time his family had crushed his hopes and dreams like that, and it wouldn't be the last. On nights like these, he usually cried himself to sleep, but apparently he'd used up all his tears that afternoon.

When it was evident that he would not a wink of sleep, Once-ler crawled out of bed and tiptoed into the bathroom. Staring into the mirror with the bright light behind him, the boy inspected his face closely.

Round cheeks. Floppy black hair. Shiny blue eyes with light freckles underneath. He couldn't find anything particularly unlikable about himself. He looked normal. So why did everyone hate him so much? At school, at home, even just around the neighborhood, people were always either criticizing him or laughing at him. Why? Was it because of his height? His name? Was it because he never responded to their taunts, or because he always did "babyish" things like his mom said?

He stared at himself a bit longer, his brow furrowing with emotion and confusion. Would he have to live the rest of his life this way? Would anyone ever be proud of him? The boy wiped a few stray tears form his cheeks and looked at his reflection once more.

Then, it hit him. The answer was so simple. Once-ler leaned in closer to the mirror.

"If nobody will be proud of me…" he whispered. "Well, then, I'll just have to be proud of myself."

The words seemed ridiculous coming out of his mouth, but he made himself continue. "That tower you built today was extraordinary, Oncie," he told himself. "I loved how you were able to support it with that wide base, and those columns. And the way you made those pathways curve in and out, genius!" He went on to list all the different details of the structure, everything he wished his mom could have said. The more he spoke, the better he felt.

"…I'm sure you'll be a great architect someday," he finally finished. A small smile now sat on his tanned face. "You did a great job, Oncie…I'm so proud of you."

He leaned back from the mirror and looked down at himself, feeling considerably less sad. Sure, maybe it didn't replace having his mother's approval, but one day, he would get it. And until then, this was the next best thing.

"I'm so proud of me…" he repeated.

Finally comforted, Once-ler left the bathroom and hopped back into bed, where he quickly fell asleep and dreamed bittersweet dreams.

...

By the age of 11, Once-ler had had to move into his own room. Not because his mother felt that he deserved it, no. It was so his brothers wouldn't be bothered when he woke up early.

About a year ago, it had been decided that Once-ler would have to get up earlier than the rest of the family in order to cook breakfast. Yes, it was a bit strange to have an 11-year-old boy do the cooking, but lately his family had taken to assigning him all the extra chores, or rather, the chores they didn't feel like doing themselves. Not that Once-ler minded. Maybe with all the extra work he was taking on, his family would finally feel that he was doing something right. Besides, he thought to himself. I'm sure they have much harder things to do, anyway…

The young pre-teen boy whistled as he scrambled eggs on the stove. After a second, he heard the sound of heavy footsteps, and turned to see his Aunt Grizielda walk into the room and sit down. He smiled. "Morning, Aunt Grizielda!"

The woman just grunted in response.

A few minutes later, the rest of the family showed up and took their seats. "Hurry up with that food, boy," he aunt snapped.

"Coming…" Once-ler quickly finished what he was doing and proceeded to place the food on the table in front of his family. No sooner did he pull his arms out of the way did they begin gobbling everything up without so much as a thank you.

Once-ler stepped back and watched them for a moment. Then he turned to the counter and began to eat the small portion that he had set aside for himself.

Eventually, his family finished eating. Each of them got up and left without a word, leaving the dishes, as usual, for Once-ler to clean. As the boy finished his food, he noticed that the final member, his mother, was also getting up to leave. She daintily patted her mouth with a napkin, which she then tossed onto the pile of garbage on the table.

Once-ler hesitated for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Hey, mom?" His voice cracked.

His mother turned to look at him.

He was quiet for a second, then asked, "So, uh, how'd you like it?"

The woman stared back at him before sighing. "Well, it had its usual blandness, Oncie," she said. "It wouldn't kill you to add a little more life to your food, would it?" She flashed him a fake smile before turning and leaving him behind.

Now alone in the kitchen, Once-ler felt his earlier optimism drain away. He stood there for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists, before shaking himself out of it.

"It's fine, it's fine," he said to himself, proceeding to clean the table. "I can make it less bland. Yeah, I can do that. She'll see." He took the dishes to the sink. "Besides, it wasn't that bad. It was good…" the boy looked up and caught his reflection in the kitchen window. He grinned.

"You did good, Oncie," he said to himself, just as he had been doing for the past 3 years. "Just a small little adjustment to your methods, and you'll be a great cook."

He beamed, and turned back to the task at hand, whistling once more. He had managed to cheer himself up again.

Deep down, though, he only half-believed himself.

...

Once-ler sat on the porch and put down his guitar as the wind played with his raven-colored hair. Brushing his bangs aside, the 15-year-old picked up his notebook and pencil once more. Around his neck, he wore a long gray scarf that he had knit himself.

Yes, he was a 15-year-old boy who liked to knit.

In all honesty, Once-ler could not remember what had drawn him to such a stereotypically girlish hobby. All he knew was that one day, he had picked up some yarn and a pair of needles out of boredom, and now it had become one of his favorite things to do to pass time. He liked it almost as much as drawing and playing the guitar, and that was saying something. Once-ler had knit several things in the past. From scarves to sweaters…even a large blanket one time.

Of course, as usual, nobody seemed to understand. As if he wasn't made fun of enough already, the knitting hobby drew even more taunting from the people around him, and his family was no exception. But he didn't let that stop him. The teenager would just tell himself that it was alright. If nobody would be happy with him, then he'd just be happy with himself. No big deal.

That's what he had been doing for years now, and it had practically become of way of life for him. Perhaps it didn't have as much of an effect as it did when he was 8, but it was the only thing that kept him going, kept him happy.

As a smile formed on his face, Once-ler flipped through the pages of his small notebook, looking at the different designs. He was on to something, he could feel it. Who would have guessed that an idea he had conceived in his mind while he was half-asleep would become such a huge obsession?

So he could knit. He could knit lots of things. But on that fateful night, something had occurred to him: What if he could knit something that could be a scarf and a sweater and a blanket…and a curtain and a hat and a dress? What if he could knit something that could be…everything?

Of course, he had laughed. The idea just seemed so crazy, so unbelievably stupid that he'd just had to laugh. But for some reason, the thought kept haunting him. What if? Would people buy it? Would be become successful, maybe even famous? Would he finally do something right and win his family's approval? Would he finally be able to stop patting himself on the back just to keep himself from going insane?

What if?

Once-ler grinned even wider. He picked up the yarn and needles that had been sitting next to him, and began to knit like there was no tomorrow. All the prototypes he had made for his wonder invention so far had failed, but with each try, he felt like he was getting closer to the perfect design.

For a few minutes he sat there in the breeze, in blissful silence for the first time in a while.

Until he heard snickers.

Once-ler looked up, a feeling of dread rising in his chest, and saw four boys advancing towards him. Two of them were his brothers. The other two were their dumb friends whose names Once-ler had never bothered to learn.

"Hey guys, check it out!" Bret called as the boys surrounded the porch. "Our little sister is knitting stuff again!"

"Awww, how cute!" one of his friends taunted. "Do you mind making something for me, Miss Once-ler?"

The four boys cracked up.

Once-ler rolled his eyes and felt his face turn pink. "Very funny, guys." He glued his eyes down at his own knitting hands and tried to tune them out.

They laughed some more. "But seriously, Oncie," Bret said, "Why do you knit? I mean, it's so girly."

"No it's not," Once-ler protested. "There's nothing unmanly about knitting."

The boys snickered again. Bret snorted along with them and continued. "Ok, sure, but…don't you worry that someone will see you making that…thing? What the heck is that thing, anyway?"

"Oh…this?" Once-ler hesitated for a moment, then held up his invention for them to see. Who knows? Maybe they'd like it. "It's my invention," the raven-haired boy told them. "It's something that can be anything. It's a sweater, it's a curtain, it's…well, it's anything you want it to be!" he held his invention out to them with pride.

The other boys erupted into laughter. "Oh my gosh!" one of them cried. "That's so stupid! That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life!"

Once-ler shrank back.

Bret was doubled over with laughter. "Aw, man, Oncie, you're hopeless," he declared between giggles. "Completely hopeless."

After what seemed an eternity, the boys finally began to walk away.

"It can be anything~!" on of them mocked, and they all burst into laughter once more.

Once-ler slumped down and tossed his project aside. He took off his hat and rubbed a hand against his forehead, trying to calm himself down. It's always the some thing, he thought. Nobody cares about what I'm doing. All they ever do is laugh…

Voices began to whisper in his head. The same thoughts of doubt that has haunted him since he was young swirled around in his mind, trying to take over.

He couldn't let them. Once-ler quietly reached over and picked up the one thing that he always used to calm himself down—his guitar.

He strummed the instrument softly, humming along with it, and the music soothed him. The voices of doubt in his mind eventually faded away and disappeared. Voices of confidence replaced them.

It'll be alright, the teenager told himself. It'll just take them some time to see how awesome my invention is.

Once-ler put down his guitar and once again picked up his notebook. A smile formed on his face. Oh yeah, they'll see. This stuff is amazing. He flipped through the pages until he found the one that he had been working on. Man, I am so proud of me…

He reached over to his side and picked up his knitting needles.

...

Nobody would buy a thing made of plain old yarn. Plain old yarn probably wouldn't work well, anyway. His thneed had to be made of something special, unique. The material had to be perfect, and that is what he had set out to find.

They had laughed at him. They'd all laughed t him just like they'd been laughing at him his whole life. They told him that they wouldn't be surprised if he failed. Well, he'd prove them all wrong! As soon as he found the perfect material, everyone would buy his thneed, and they would see that he could do something right.

Once-ler happily strummed his guitar as he rode on the wagon that Melvin pulled. The trip was very long and very boring, but he told himself to remain optimistic. He had spent five stinking years perfecting his invention and thinking up a cool name for it. Five years of holding on to that one single hope that he'd finally do something worthwhile. Five long years of telling himself that it would only be a little while longer before people saw his true value, all voices of doubt being silenced by the blind, fragile confidence that he had been building for himself since his childhood.

And now, on the road with his wagon, that confidence was at its peak. They could laugh at him all they wanted to, but soon they would see. His time to shine was drawing nearer by the minute.

Once-ler let a huge grin cross his face as these thoughts ran through his mind. Strumming his guitar a little louder, he began to sing happily.

"Na na nanan na, nana nana nanana nana~
Op bap, bado bad-up doo~
Goin' off to make a thneed~"

As the trip dragged on, however, the young man's energy began to dwindle, as did his optimism.

Voices played with his mind once more. Maybe they were right, they said. Maybe the thneed is a stupid idea. You should stop before you completely humiliate yourself…

But Once-ler quickly shook these thoughts away. Don't worry, he told himself for the zillionth time. It'll be alright. You're doing good, Oncie, you're doing good…

And the other voices were silenced.

...

"Be careful which way you lean."

Those were the words that the bright orange Lorax had said to him, a sad frown on his mustached face. As Once-ler sat hunched over his drawing easel, sketching designs for a new thneed factory, he repeated the words in his head.

Be careful which way you lean. Now what was that supposed to mean? As far as he was concerned, Once-ler had been "leaning" this way his whole life. All he'd ever wanted was to be accepted, to be someone that his mother could be proud of, and now, he finally was. Was the Lorax actually suggesting that he take it all back, to throw away all that he had worked for?

What kind of stupid idea was that?

I mean, yeah, Once-ler thought. He's a good and nice acquaintance and all, and the forest animals are fun to hang with, but…it doesn't beat finally having the acceptance of your own family, right? I mean, this can't be that bad, right?

Right?

…Maybe the Lorax is right,

a voice in his mind responded. It was a different voice, not the same taunting voice that had been playing with his thoughts his whole life. Maybe you're just not seeing the bigger picture. Maybe you should step back for a moment and consider what might happen if…

Once-ler pushed the voice away. Why would he ever want to stop? That was stupid! Everything would be just fine!

The voice was silenced.

Satisfied, the young man finished his sketch and sat back to admire it. "I mean, look at this, it's amazing," he told himself for the billionth and final time. "I am so proud of me."

At that moment, Once-ler's mother poked her head in the window and his life changed forever.

...

A voice of reason. That's what it had been. But he'd been too deaf to hear it. Too distracted by his fabricated ego to understand. Too blinded by his greed and hunger for attention to see the horror that he had caused.

And now it was all gone. Everything he had worked so hard for, gone. His glorious empire that had lasted him nearly 6 years had crumbled and fallen with the last Truffula tree.

He thought he'd finally gotten what he wanted, but he was wrong. How could he have been so stupid?

And now, as he dropped to his knees and stared up at the smoggy sky, crying and screaming with all that was left of him, the reality of it slapped him in the face at last.

He had destroyed everything. Everything! The beautiful forest was gone. His business was gone. The friends that he had made and betrayed, gone. His greedy family who he thought had finally accepted him, they were gone too. Even the Lorax was gone.Everything was gone!

And it was all his fault.

Again he was alone. Again, he had nobody. Nobody would care about him. It was as if nothing had changed.

Except this time, the voices would come back and haunt him for the rest of his life.

And he could never be proud of himself again.