As Adder sits, wasting away in his own hell, his disintegrating mind cannot help but wonder if, somewhere out there, somehow, exists a reality where he made better choices, where he doesn't have to be constantly looking over his shoulder and sleeping with one eye open, just waiting, forever waiting, for the sweet release of the end that may never come. Perhaps somewhere far away, that version of him exists already, free from regrets and mistakes, free from the pain he has caused with his pranks, living ever so happily, without a single care in the world. 

But then again, who really wants to read about that guy?
spam fails_task lang_mismatch pii not_appropriate hate_speech sexual_content quality toxicity humor helpfulness creativity violence