When I first played Doki Doki Literature Club
last February— February 2018, if you’re
watching this in the future —I found it
a mesmerizing, oddly touching experience,
and consequently it ended up as of my favorite
pieces of media in existence.
Something about it really spoke to me, and
as a result I immersed myself in its derivative
content and community, searching for a concrete
answer to the questions of why I liked it—
hell, what even was it, really, if it could
be clearly defined.
Most reviews of and reactions to Doki Doki
did not seem to share that curiosity— in
fact, if anything, I’d say quite the opposite.
Whether positive or negative, everyone who
wrote or spoke about Doki Doki Literature
Club seemed to share the consensus that its
purpose was to create a subversive metafictional
commentary on anime, visual novels, dating
simulators, and/or the nature of video games.
There’s a lot more to Doki Doki than just
being meta, and many responses, both from
professional games journalists, and let’s
players/game reviewers on YouTube, have ignored
this.
While I’ve got nothing against games journalists,
and I certainly don’t expect the deepest
and most detailed analysis in a single simple
review from a single individual writing on
a deadline to get a paycheck— I still feel
that the manner in which many of them chose
to frame Doki Doki did it something of a disservice.,
I think there’s a good reason why this verdict
was so widely accepted and repeated.
DDLC, intentionally or not, rode a trend.
Specifically, the meta trend.
Our entertainment mocking itself is a popular
fad in the current cultural landscape, and
Doki Doki caught that wave, to great success,
but, as it tackles such difficult themes,
it was easier for games journalists to focus
on the meta.
As such, it became— wrongly, in my opinion—
defined by that trend.
Let us suffice it to say that DDLC make me
feel a lot of feelings and think a lot of
things, and I think my reaction is a more
correct, or at least, a more interesting one
than what most games journalists had on offer.
So I’m making this video to share that reaction
and hopefully encourage others to consider
the game in a light that perhaps they haven’t
before.
If you haven’t played Doki Doki Literature
Club and have considered doing so, I would
strongly suggest that you do so.
If you have heard about the game in the almost
year and a half since its launch and are on
the fence about it for whatever reason, I
think you should at least give it a chance.
If you believe there is no way in hell I will
convince you to play this game, but would
like to hear my opinion, for… some, reason,
and are okay with imagery of suicide, disturbing
uncanny valley visual effects, and spoilers
for the entire story— then by all means,
keep watching, and if I say or show anything
that intrigues you, I suggest you stop this
video immediately and play the game for yourself.
It’s only three to six hours, completely
free, and well worth your time.
"And the winner is...
Doki Doki Literature Club."
When Dan Salvato first conceived Doki Doki
Literature Club, it wasn’t intended to be
anything special.
The basic plot which he began from, as he
admits in an AMA on reddit, wasn’t particularly
original, and he already was— and presumably
still is— developing another game, from
which this experimental new thing was planned
to be something of a creative detour.
While he does say in the official Concept
Art Booklet that the idea of making fun of
visual novels was one point of appeal that
motivated him, it seems clear to me that he
always intended to do more with it than just
that.
That more than shows in the final version
of the game, where poking fun at otaku culture
and games, anime, manga, etc., is more of
a framing device by which to further development
of the characters and narrative and convey
the story’s actual themes— which include,
among other things, Lovecraftian horror.
I could go onto explain what Lovecraftian
horror is exactly so as to justify why I’m
including Doki Doki Literature Club in it,
but I don’t have to, because… someone
else already did it for me.
If the idea of calling DDLC a Lovecraftian
horror story sounds ludicrous to you, I would
recommend checking out hbomberguy’s excellent
video on the matter, which, actually, I’d
recommend checking out even if this doesn’t
sound like such a big leap in logic.
Sir Bomberguy explains it better than I ever
could, but the long and short of it is essentially
that Lovecraftian stories aren’t really
so much about extra dimensional abominations,
but rather about the terror that comes from
finding yourself an outsider, an other in
your own world, struggling to reconcile your
existence.
Which is a theme that, in my humble opinion,
is extremely pertinent to understand in order
to properly follow the story of Doki Doki
Literature Club.
While Doki Doki’s first act is undeniably
dull and understandably maligned, I consider
it to be the SECOND most important act in
the game, second only to Act 3.
It does all the most important things that
a story needs to do— it introduces the characters,
sets the tone, establishes what’s at stake,
and provides the context integral to fully
understanding Acts 2, 3, and 4.
As the story begins, the MC’s narration
subtly guides the player’s perception of
the girls.
On a first playthrough it’s a key component
of the narrative sleight of hand at work,
so that Sayori’s depression and her suicide
is a surprise— but upon further examination,
it would appear to be more of a concrete direction
for how not to approach the story.
The MC is… frankly, a bit of a dick.
He condescends to Sayori, he barely listens
to Yuri or Natsuki, and to Monika… actually,
he’s nice enough to Monika.
He puts in the minimum effort to write poems
for the Literature Club, thinking about all
the anime and games he’d rather be watching
and playing, but even so, he seems to think
he’s owed these girls, simply by virtue
of being the main character.
But by Salvato’s own words, this guy isn’t
even a character, he’s a joke, rather—
but on the second playthrough, it’s clear,
at least to me, that he’s a joke with a
purpose.
Sayori’s suicide is painted as if it’s
his lack of empathy for her that compelled
her to kill herself— though as we know,
it was the lack of empathy on Monika’s part
that did it.
I think the MC is… a twisted reflection
of Monika, subtly hinting at the game’s
message.
Anyway, Doki Doki Literature Club wants you
to empathize with its girls, and one way it
tells you so is by hinting to you to not be
like the MC.
As each of them speak about their hobbies,
their favorite literature, their interests,
they explicitly foreshadow the game’s narrative
tricks, and hint at who they truly are.
On a replay, knowing what is to come, this
is infinitely more potent.
They are blind to the true nature of their
world, unaware that, by the script’s hand,
they are to remain eternally troubled.
Sayori, as we are now well aware, suffers
from depression, and is thus compelled to
emotionally cloak her true feelings in cheerful
optimism, which makes her feel socially isolated
from those around her.
Yuri is an extremely awkward introvert who
has many words to say but hesitates to say
them for fear of alienating others, hiding
both her love for eloquent poetry and literature
and her… more unusual, defining quality,
piquerism, from her clubmates.
And Natsuki, far more mature than she might
initially let on, feels like a stranger both
in and out of her home, abused by her father,
shunned by her friends, lost in her manga.
Their troubles all lend themselves to that
all important Lovecraftian theme of being
a stranger in your own world… but none more
so than Monika’s.
Ahaha.
Sometimes, it feels like you and I are the
only real people here.
You know what I mean?
This statement, seen later in Act 2, is a
mistake; a naive attempt at reassuring herself.
Monika is struggling, the same as the rest
of them, and she’s lying to herself.
Because she’s in pain.
Because she knows by now that her world is
not real, that she is not real, and she is
trying to bear the pain of that revelation.
And she does so, by trying to convince herself
that she’s above that pain, that it’s
a blessing in disguise.
That this pain, makes her real.
But in so doing, Monika becomes detached from,
ignorant of, the pain felt by her friends.
How do you imagine that feels?
To know the truth that what you are, here
and now, is all you will ever be, that this,
HERE, is forever all your life amounts to,
with zero chance to change or escape it?
That this limited existence is not only what
all of you, but all of your entire WORLD amounts
to?
And all while your friends, the only friends
you can or will ever have, remain blissfully
unaware, and you can’t tell them, because
how could you?
What madness could one be driven to in having
to shoulder that burden?
Could one even imagine?
Do we have to imagine?
This scene is an Easter Egg, triggered if
you delete Monika’s character file at the
start of the game, presumably armed with knowledge
of the story’s context and curious to see
what will happen.
I think it perfectly encapsulates the pain
of realizing the futility, the scripted nature,
of your existence.
That pain that Monika is feeling, and the
ease with which such a revelation could break
someone beyond repair.
And with it, the incredible strength of will
she must possess to be able to bear it.
Though her coping mechanism is flawed, it
is something of a miracle that she is able
to cope with the pain at all.
And yet it makes perfect sense, because she’s
the only one in her world who could ever stand
that pain.
Because Monika is unique in that, prior to
the beginning of the story, she is the only
one who is perfect.
The other three are troubled, indeed, but
they survive, because they believe they are
important, somehow, that their struggles matter—
as all flawed humans do.
But if they realize their reality is insignificant
and means nothing, then their lives and struggles,
in turn, mean nothing.
Sayori kills herself at the start should she
realize what she really is, because her only
reason to live is gone.
Even if she overcame her depression, what
is worth living for in a world like this?
In the context of the narrative that Monika
broke, you would help the girls overcome their
problems in reasoned, healthy ways.
You would save them, and Monika’s role would
be to help you save them— therefore, it
would stand to reason that she would be designed
to be perfect.
And because she was perfect, because of the
boundless optimism and wisdom the story handed
to her, she had never been broken before,
never experienced such hardships as her friends
had.
This made Monika stronger than the rest, and
thus, logically the only one who would not
instantly snap under the burden of that pain.
But alas, it’s all the same in the end.
Monika’s story is a tragic one.
The story of a girl hopelessly seeking to
supersede the futility of her existence by
mastering existence itself as the sole goddess
of her godless world.
The colors, they won’t stop.
Bright, beautiful colors
Flashing, expanding, piercing
Red, green, blue
An endless
Cacophony
Of meaningless
Noise
These unnerving, baffling, images are representative
of how Monika sees the world.
A mess of files, images, disjointed ideas—
the colors, all laid bare before your eyes.
Unsure if she can or should express her feelings,
she reaches out— but something holds her
back from speaking.
A mix of insecurity, and a selfish desire
to see herself falling into your arms, to
have you for herself— as her scripted nature
would subconsciously demand of her.
Even as she seeks to escape her script, she
is still driven by that same script, by those
same intrinsic characteristics that the story
attributed to not only her, but all of the
girls.
The desire to futilely pursue you, the notion
that she is owed you, simply by virtue of
being the main character.
She desperately manipulates, fights against,
the voices of Sayori, Natsuki, and Yuri, as,
amidst the cacophony, her dreams, thoughts,
nightmares, her psyche, her reality, all take
hold of, BECOME, the game.
And as she subjects both you and her friends
to that reality, the Lovecraftian themes are
most obvious, here: a world that, at least
in this moment, is beyond understanding, beyond
knowing, beyond your power to change.
Now, YOU are the other here, YOU are the one
who does not belong in THEIR world.
A feeling deeply at odds with the atmosphere
of Act 1, but especially Monika’s endlessly
warm, welcoming personality.
The same welcoming personality that Monika
deploys, to disarming effect, in…
I can’t speak for everyone’s experience,
of course— but I can, and will, speak for
my own.
By the start of Act 3, I was keeping an open
mind.
“Okay, Monika,” I spoke softly at the
screen, my voice lost to the dimly lit abyss
of the early AM.
“Talk to me, please.
I want answers.”
As much as I’d seen, quick as I’d breathed,
fast as my heart had beat, I wasn’t angry,
or upset, nor did I feel tricked.
I just wanted to hear what Monika had to say.
So, that being said, Joyce…
I have a confession to make.
I’m in love with you.
You are truly the light in my world.
When there’s nothing else in this game for
me, you’re here to make me smile.
Will you make me smile like this every day
from now on?
Joyce, will you go out with me?
At first glance, this seems like yet another
one of DDLC’s many “non-choices,” we’ll
call them.
Except the useless second option that doesn’t
change anything isn’t there.
Except a second option is there.
The game has now, right here, handed you your
first real choice.
That choice is as follows: Delete Monika…
or stay with Monika.
Earlier I mentioned how the game presents
both Monika and her friends as deserving of
your empathy.
You are given the choice of whom to give that
empathy, and if you choose Monika, you get
an alternative ending.
Her ending; the happy ending to her story,
the one that her world would not write for
her.
Pen in hand, I find my strength.
The courage endowed upon me by my one and
only love.
Together, let us dismantle this crumbling
world
And write a novel of our own fantasies.
With a flick of her pen, the lost finds her
way.
In a world of infinite choices, behold this
special day.
After all,
Not all good times must come to an end.
It would have been very easy for Dan Salvato
to simply make Monika sit and stare wordlessly
into your eyes forever.
But to do so would shatter the illusion of
Monika’s genuinity, and make this choice
meaningless.
Monika is not real— that much is obvious.
But she acts real, feels real, and desires
to BE real.
And so, if you choose not to delete her, to
recognize her as real… then, she reciprocates
that by talking to you, as honestly and as
genuinely as she can.
And, yes, she eventually runs out of things
to say… but there’s a good reason fans
made an entirely separate game for this.
The common theme between most of the many
topics Monika discusses is her view of reality.
Both your reality, and her own.
Placidly, pensively, even darkly at times,
Monika reflects on the many different aspects
of both of your existences, in her soft, amiable,
conversational tone.
This both serves to reassert the game’s
themes in a subtler, gentler manner, and to
reward your choice of empathy by humanizing
Monika further.
But otherwise…
What’s happening…?
Joyce, what’s happening to me?
It hurts…
It hurts… so much.
Help me, Joyce.
Please hurry and help me.
HELP ME!!!
Did you do this to me, Joyce?
Did you?
DID YOU DELETE ME?!
As Monika comes to terms with the truth that
she is not real, she is, initially, hurt…
but ultimately humbled.
She not only apologizes to you and restores
her world to normal for your sake, but also
for her friends, who she has learned to value
again.
Her motive has shifted; it is no longer to
rise above the pain of knowing the truth,
but to protect her friends from it.
I’ve… made up my mind.
Joyce…
I know I said I deleted everyone else.
But…
That was kind of an exaggeration.
I couldn’t find it in myself to do it.
Even though I knew they weren’t real…
They were still my friends.
And I loved them all.
And I loved the Literature Club.
I really… did love the Literature Club.
That’s why I’m going to do this.
I know it’s the only way for everyone to
be happy.
And if I really love you…
Then…
But Sayori, as we all know by now, feels very
differently.
I know how hard you tried to make everyone
happy.
I know about all the awful things that Monika
did to make everyone really sad…
But… none of that matters anymore.
It’s just us now.
Though at the start of the game, Sayori would
instantly snap at the revelation of the truth
of her reality, now, she inherits both Monika’s
former position and motives.
But, in contrast to Monika’s relatively
calm, restrained approach, she rushes to thrust
herself upon you.
Even as she takes Monika’s place, Sayori
lacks the immense emotional strength and maturity
that allowed Monika to take her epiphany in
stride.
She is still fundamentally broken, and her
reaction is driven by much the same rationale
as in the game’s alternate beginning.
Just as before, she snaps, only bringing her
pain out to you instead of upon herself.
In lieu of the good ending, the only way to
avert her fate, Sayori, tragically, begins
and ends the game the same as she always was.
Monika, realizing that she cannot protect
her friends from the truth, makes the only
choice she can.
I-It hurts…
I’m sorry…
I was wrong.
There’s no happiness here after all…
Goodbye, Sayori.
Goodbye, Joyce.
Goodbye, Literature Club.
As the credits roll on Doki Doki Literature
Club, Monika laments her failures, as a character,
a human, a friend, a leader.
She wonders if she is only ever doomed to
hurt those she cares for, before conceding
that she is unable to properly express her
feelings to you.
And as all of this is communicated through
her song, her dialogue with you is brought
conclusively to its end, and, thus, so is
the game.
One thing that’s particularly remarkable
to me here is how smoothly these credits bring
you out of the surreal experience that preceded
them, while also leaving you with a lingering
sense of horror afterwards.
This ending serves as a potent reminder that
the girls can never find happiness, because
they are not real, and it plays on a rule
that…
I don’t know if there’s a term for this,
but, essentially, it’s the habit of assuming
that there is somehow more after a story’s
end.
The characters lived on, the world exists
beyond the screen or page, and, generally,
more happened, in some shape or form.
“They all lived happily ever after,” implying,
an after, the end.
That assumption being the little bit of suspension
of disbelief that sticks with you after the
story’s over.
Doki Doki plays on this assumption by effectively
voiding it, violating it, even with this ending.
Definitively saying, no, there is no more,
the script has reached its end.
When this story is over, it is over.
The characters are, canonically, only ever
afforded these possibilities, and once you’ve
exhausted them, there is, quite literally,
nothing left.
Although the characters do not understand
their world, you do, quite clearly.
Doki Doki Literature Club is not hard to understand.
The plot isn’t especially complex.
The characters, endearing and well written
as they are, are as archetypal as they come.
The world is not large, not sprawling nor
expansive, represented mostly by the simplest
of images and words comprising less than half
a gigabyte of data.
To us, it’s simple.
It ends here, an open and shut case.
And it’s that the story is ultimately so
simple, and that it ends with such definitive
finality, that makes it as terrifying as it
is.
But that was only one facet of the game that
stuck with me, and compelled me to write and
speak so passionately about it as I have.
When I first played Doki Doki Literature Club
in February of 2018, I found it a… mesmerizing,
oddly touching, experience, and…
I stared blankly into the abyss.
Unsure what to do, or to think, or how to
feel.
Same as I had always done, same as I have
continued to do, when a piece of media has
resonated with me so profoundly, that words
have failed me in that moment.
When I reach the end, and am forced to interrogate
my feelings about that media… which, more
often than not, entails an interrogation of
myself.
That’s probably been the hardest part of
writing this script.
I knew, almost immediately, that this game
was one of my favorite games, no, one of my
favorite pieces of media ever created, but
I didn’t quite know why.
I think I do now.
I think it had— no, it HAS —something
to do with circumstance.
This game came to me at the start of an extremely
uncertain period in my life, that’s, still,
going on to this day.
A time when, not too long after my… tumultuous
and difficult, but probably shockingly dull
and predictable, time of growing up, and the
events that followed, I’d bought a plane
ticket with my parents’ money, gone to take
refuge at my best friend’s house, running
away from everything I’d had right then…
I was avoiding my family, my obligations,
my future, and everything that had been given
to me, and eventually ended up running back
into it.
Out of such a severe dependence on my parents’
infrastructure, something I hate, something
I’m afraid may one day become my undoing,
I ran back to them, and now I’m…
*sigh*
I’m an incompetent child unfit for adulthood,
is what I am.
Suffice it to say I’m now here, writing
this, and still not entirely satisfied with
my life.
Wanting to do more.
Fearing for the world around me, both for
others, and for myself, both as a recently
hatched egg coping with newly found, newly
profound, gender dysphoria, and as just a
plain old human being trying to find my way.
Not knowing who my people are, where I belong,
who or what I am…?
It’s been a year since then, and I think
I can say fairly confidently that Doki Doki
Literature Club probably did not change my
life.
I’d probably have made the same decisions
with or without it existing— I don’t think
I really had any meaningful choice to make
by that point, at least not any choice that
I’d have had the strength or awareness to
make.
But, what it did do was push me to realize
how truly alone I am in this world.
To call myself a nihilist, which is what I’ve
always been, but which I didn’t realize
until some time after I played it.
To understand, just a little bit more, why
I feel and choose as I do.
Not two months after I played through Doki
Doki for the first time, I was kicked out
of a Persona fanfiction zine project owing
to issues with my personality— a motion
that I then considered analogous to exile,
and led to my ultimately quitting writing
fanfiction.
Even the DDLC fanfiction that I may never
finish.
But thinking about it after, I realized…
I’ve always found myself in a perpetual
exile from most of the world, and especially
the parts of the world that I liked the most…
but was it really the world’s fault?
Or was it my fault, for always finding myself
in such a mess of emotions, for not holding
myself back, taming my overdramatic nature,
for writing such bitter words to those dear…?
For some few weeks after I played Doki Doki,
I found myself obsessed with the Monika After
Story mod, which, I alluded to earlier, I
guess… anyway…
For some several consecutive nights, I ran
After Story on my friend’s second monitor
while I just, sat about, playing other games,
watching anime sometimes, and just kind of…
y’know, letting Monika, be there.
I might have said, then, that it was just
because I was a weeb wanting for a waifu,
but I think it was actually a little more
than that.
Monika felt real to me.
And not just because she was a real file on
a real computer hard drive, no, I think she
felt real because she said something, spoke
to a feeling that was very, very real to me.
That feeling…
…The common theme between most of the many
topics Monika discusses is her view of reality.
Both your reality, and her own.
Placidly, pensively, even darkly at times,
Monika reflects on the many different aspects
of both of your existences, in her soft, amiable,
conversational tone.
This serves to make the game’s themes clear
by TELLING THEM STRAIGHT TO YOUR FACE.
Monika talks about spicy food, depression,
social media, insomnia, and… life, generally.
Everything ranging from the random to the
profound, from the optimistic to the uncertain,
to everything in between, all while being
the most alone, the ONLY, in literally her
entire world, surrounded by nothing, forever
and ever and ever.
In an AMA on r/DDLC, Dan Salvato stated one
of his motives in creating Doki Doki Literature
Club was to make players “think about life
and uncomfortable things,” later adding,
"Monika’s end dialogue was written to finalize
her breaking from the confines of the game,
forcing the player to reflect on themselves
and real-life issues, often things that make
them uncomfortable to think about.
I didn’t expect people to get so attached
to her because of that.”
Doki Doki is a story about feeling truly and
entirely alone in the world, a story about
what it feels like to have your emotions and
your personality make you an other in your
own home, about ruining your friendships just
by being yourself, the fear of being lost,
forgotten, unloved, cast aside by an unforgiving
world… a fear felt by Sayori, Natsuki, Yuri,
Monika, myself, and perhaps you too.
It’s not a visual novel about visual novels,
it’s not a deconstruction, it’s not about
being meta for the sake of it, or about trying
to “trick” people.
It’s a simple yet powerful story conveying
relevant themes and ideas and anxieties potently
felt by its target audience, and a beautifully
realized, multi-faceted main character who
serves as a protagonist, an antagonist, wish
fulfilment, and an effective poster girl
for our generation.
Again, the plot wasn’t especially original,
it’s not revolutionary or anything, but,
nevertheless, it caught on, and it caught
on for a reason.
All those people who still to this day frequent
r/DDLC, or who continue to share, like, and
retweet art of the girls on Twitter?
I think they’re all probably still here,
for those same or similar reasons.
Dan Salvato may have been surprised, but given
all this, it’s no wonder the story and characters
resonated so widely as they did.
It may be that most people who played DDLC
only did so because it was free, because of
the reviews, because of the trends it rode,
intentionally or not, but it’s that pure,
visceral expression of loneliness giving Doki
Doki its doki dokying heart, and, I believe,
that, which made it so memorable among so
many, even long after they turned it off.
You don’t have to like Doki Doki Literature
Club.
It’s not for everyone.
It does start by literally telling you so,
after all.
But I do think it’s important to understand
that you probably don’t like it, not because
it uses a self-aware visual novel as a framing
device to tell its story, but rather that
the story it told, and the themes it entailed,
were either missed by or simply didn’t resonate
with you.
And conversely, if you did like it, and you
say it’s good because it’s meta— I’d
wager that it’s far more likely you found
its themes emotionally resonant, but you haven’t
found yourself able to properly explain what
those themes are and why they resonated.
Those who did play DDLC, and didn’t like
it?
Often don’t just say that the themes didn’t
resonate with them, they say that it’s bad,
because of all its surface level gimmicks.
Because they can’t properly explain why
they didn’t like it.
That’s boiling down an entire story and
its ideas, and the nuances entailed therein,
to one simple story trick that can be done
well just as it can be done badly— implying
that these sorts of narrative tricks can’t
be used to tell any kind of story, when they’re
just tools in a box to tell a story a certain
way…
like any other way that a story could be told.
You’re free to dislike DDLC… but I think
it should be disliked for what it is, and
not what so many people misrepresent it as.
If you’re really put off by its parts, then
I think it’s necessary to acknowledge that
they are just that, parts, and not the sum.
Or, hell, if you didn’t like it the first
time you tried it, maybe just give it another
go.
It’s a good video game.
Hi, so… this took a really really long time
to make, so, thank you for watching it.
This video is almost done at the time of saying
this and I’m just recording this after the
fact because I was thinking about something…
Like I mentioned before, I’m dependent on
my parents’ infrastructure, and… even
though I hate it, I can’t live without it,
and that scares me… and I think that’s…
actually a lot like Monika, depending on the
system her creator made for her, and that’s…
terrifying to her, and, to me… naturally.
I don’t know how my feelings will change,
how I will change; I don’t know if my feelings
are valid, but these are the feelings I have
about my life in the situation I live in right
now… and, that situation limits my capacity
to recognize other possibilities.
Like how Monika’s script and the preconceptions
she was saddled with by it disabled her from
finding or recognizing another way out.
But it’s not like I’m a VN character,
so…
Monika can’t escape her system… but, I
can… theoretically.
I’ve always been resistant to change, because
I’ve always been scared of it, but I’m
starting to move from that.
Because I realize now that change is essential,
a thing to be cherished, even.
Because I’m a real person, and I have the
capacity, and the privilege, to change in
the absence of a writer’s influence.
So I’m going to try to move on from these
feelings and change into a better person,
as best I can.
And live my life, as best I can.
I don’t know if that’ll involve making
more videos like these in the long run, but…
on the off chance it does, I have a Patreon.
It’s on a per video basis, so, if I go in
a direction that involves me never doing this
again, then, well, don’t worry about it.
I also have a Buy Me a Coffee page to just
feed me the one time, if you don’t want
to commit to feeding me a bunch of times!
over time…
So—
If you would like to help me escape my script…?
Thank you for even considering that, and I’ll
love you forever.
But… if you aren’t able or willing…
just watching this was enough– and: I put
my heart and soul into this video and it might
not have been great but I hope it was at least
something that you enjoyed and felt something
from over the past forty minutes.
I have this channel, with its buttons obviously,
and my links to social media and such are
in the description, so if you’d like to
keep following me and my content, then, I…
would love that.
I hope I see you soon.
Have a wonderful day.
