Hey… So I ended up writing a dark-ish angst fic. I honestly don't know why the heck I did this. It just suits him well, I suppose. He ended up almost drifting to the brink of insanity anyways… Probably… So guys, I'm sorry. Though it really is your fault if you choose to read this. Here's a couple of warnings!

WARNING(S): Dark themes, mentions of eating disorders (Sorta.), and Ford slowly going crazy…

Anyways I do hope you enjoy this and all comments, suggestions, reviews, favorites, follows, and any form of criticism is appreciated! ~Enjoy!

You have been warned...

It was official. He was going insane.

Every night since he found out the truth, he has been starting to lose his mind. It all started for the times he looked at himself in his bathroom mirror. All he saw was those cursed slit pupils staring back at him. He didn't know why he expected anything different. But hey, it was good to try.

Then the voices. The horrid, nightmare-inducing whispers he hears in the back of his mind. No matter the time of day. They were always there, whispering things like: "You made a mistake…" or "Who cares if he went insane…?"

In a physical sense, he wasn't doing much better. His hair was thrown every which way. He had bags deeper than the bottomless pit under his eyes. He was losing weight quickly, and not because he was working out. His voice was scratchy, feeling like someone shoved sandpaper down his throat. (He wouldn't be surprised if that was the reason why.) And he can't even remember the last time he showered.

And he hated it.

He hated being forced to live with a lifetime of guilt. He hated not being able to sleep in peace. He hated for not being able to eat, afraid that Bill would take over and make him choke. He hated for being so gullible, believing things that were obviously lies. He hated everything.

But he kept trying.

He kept trying to find a way out. To believe. To prove to the world that he wasn't just a worthless six fingered freak. To keep himself from breaking. He kept trying to convince that all of this was just that darned triangle's fault.

It was so sad that it was almost funny. Insanity is when you keep doing something repeatedly, over and over again, expecting a different result each time. That was basically his life in a nutshell.

Well… other than ruining lives that is.

He and his brother, Stanley, were the best of friends. They did everything together. Whenever other kids bullied him, Stan was always by his side. Then, in Stan's one moment of need, he just turned his back on him and shut the curtains when his only friend got kicked out of the house. Now it's been around 10 years and he hasn't even thought about contacting him. He could be dead for all he knew!

The next life he ruined was Fiddleford's. It had never been his intention for it to happen that way. In fact, it hadn't been his intention to hurt him at all. Everything was going smoothly as they were preparing to test their newest project, an inter-dimensional portal. But as it powered on his assistant, his friend, got sucked into the portal, but only his top half went through. Fiddleford was never the same after that, neither was he.

Worst of all, he nearly put the world to its end! He had been so blind to see that Bill, someone he had called a friend, was plotting the apocalypse right under his nose! But it hurt to think, that they known each other for a few years, their whole friendship was just a scam. An excuse to get someone to do his dirty work, and he was nothing more than his puppet.

He didn't know what to do anymore. What was he supposed to do? Just sit there like a guy losing his marbles? Get up and fix this mess? No… he can't anymore. He had crossed the line far too much and now, he was paying the price.

Stanford sat down on his bed and looked at his hands. Six fingers… He was such a freak. Why would he think that he could be anything more than just be a burden to the world?

With these hands, he had changed the world, but for the worse. With these hands, he had destroyed lives. With these hands, he closed the curtains on his brother. With these hands, he put together his journals, containing dangerous information that could end the world. With these hands, he built that portal.

He's probably more of a screw-up than Stanley. Wherever he is…

The sudden feeling of nausea brought him back into reality and he darted to the bathroom, hand covering his mouth. Once he arrived, he instantly dived for the toilet. Ford wretched out his stomach acid for a whole minute before he stopped. He stayed in his position over the toilet as he breathed heavily, trying to regain some oxygen.

Ford let out a pained whimper and winced, he sounded so weak. He stood up and gained his balance before walking over to the sink to rinse his mouth. After he swished water in his mouth and cleaned his hands, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. For the first time, he wasn't unnerved by those eyes staring back.

In fact, he kind of felt welcome by them, if anything else.

Stanford's eye twitched a bit as he cracked a small smile. It wasn't happy nor sad, he didn't know what it was. Before he was aware of it, he started to chuckle. Quiet at first, but it gradually got louder. A few seconds later, Ford was full-on laughing.

At what, though?

He didn't know or care, it just felt good. The one thing that was off, though, was his tone. It wasn't that laughter one would let out after hearing a joke nor one of pure joy after seeing something amazing. It was maniacal. Crazy. Insane.

Stanford looked down at single six fingered hand, having calmed down a bit. A wide grin spread across his unshaven face.

Pfft! Who cares if I'm Insane!?

I'm sorry.