And I won't forget him being pathetic when he's sober. It continues to do that.

Sure it's a whole joke but he's so...pathetic. I don't like the way he acted and I only read fanfiction when he's sober, he's not being a mess.

Oh and I couldn't forget the first comic. Again, pathetic.

He's also not often in the original skin color either and he's whitewashed, at least from 1 to 7. I didn't notice that as I used a reference photo of him being whitewashed and colored with the color until someone pointed me out, twice. I no longer color select from it anymore and I try to use the correct color on my own.

I can't speak on it but he's hardworking, smart, funny and decent. Definitely not normal but so does all the mercs. He can even make his own weapons.

Why am I talking about this? There's that one post talking about the poster album. I'll try to find it but I knew something was off and I love TF2 but Demoman is my favorite just like everyone else.

If anyone has a thought on those, let's be civil. I just want to get this out of this feeling.

Update! I forgot how to do the text for the link but I found it:

INTRO POST

Please read (Unfinished)

there’s this moment when it clicks. when you realize you’ve been pouring way too much into a friendship that never really pours back. you’re the one checking in even though they seldom check in on you; trying to plan a trip but no one in the group chat actually responds; remembering the little details, and making sure they feel seen by listening to their rants. and at first, you convince yourself it’s fine, it’s just who you are. you’re the “caring” friend. but after a while, it starts to get tiring.

it’s a weird kind of loneliness—being surrounded by people you call friends, but still feeling like the effort is like a one-way street. it’s not supposed to feel like you’re auditioning for a role in someone’s life, right? and yet, there you are—burning your energy, your time, your heart—just to keep a connection alive that maybe they wouldn’t even notice if it drifted away. it’s like, when it’s their turn… it’s never quite the same…

and it’s not anger that hits you, not even bitterness, not really. it’s more like a quiet disappointment. a slow, steady ache when you realize they don’t chat back the way you chat them, they don’t show up the way you show up, they don’t think of you the way you think of them. it makes you wonder if maybe the love you carried in your heart for them was never equal to what they carried for you.

it’s funny… how giving so much can make you feel invisible at the same time.