So. I recently finished watching "A World That Doesn't Exist," I am currently crying, and now I brought some poetry of Avery's POV (of Dr3lord specifically) at the end and poetry of D3rlords POV at the end.
IF THIS IS ACCURATE, OR NOT, I DON'T GIVE ONE BECAUSE IM HAVING A MENTAL BREAKDOWN STOP JUDGING ME
Avery's POV:
I never really knew you.
Not the way I wish I had.
I knew what you did for me.
You saved me.
You gave me something I thought I'd already lost—
a future.
A chance to exist beyond everything that had happened.
And you did it without even knowing me.
That's the part I can't understand.
Why me?
Why would someone go that far
for a person they'd barely met?
Maybe you never expected anything in return.
Maybe you didn't need me to understand.
But I do understand one thing now.
You cared.
Even if I never got enough time
to know the person behind that kindness,
I'll always know what you gave me.
A life.
Mine.
And I wish I could've told you
how much that meant.
I wish I could've looked at you
and said thank you.
Instead, I'm left carrying a bond
that was built from something
I never got the chance to repay.
You saved me, D3rlord.
And even if you never knew
how deeply that stayed with me—
I did.
D3rlord's POV:
I think the cruelest thing about beautiful worlds
is that they know how to make you want to stay.
I knew this one wasn't real.
I knew it was only a collection of moments—
a place put together from things
that could never survive outside of it.
And still, I loved it.
For a little while,
I forgot that everything ends.
I forgot that people disappear,
that memories blur,
that some doors are only meant
to open once.
Then the world began to fade.
And I hated it.
Not because it was taking something I owned,
but because it was taking something
I had only just learned to love.
Maybe that's what makes it hurt so much.
You don't have to lose something
to mourn it.
Sometimes you can mourn a possibility.
A life.
A person.
A place that never existed anywhere
except inside someone else's imagination.
And somehow,
your heart doesn't care.
It grieves anyway.
So here I am,
standing at the edge of a world
that was never mine,
watching it disappear—
and wishing, just once,
that something impossible
could have stayed..
