Whenever I see a Mr. Beast video in my recommended feed, the same question echoes through my mind: does he dream? Does Mr. Beast—just as all of us—close his eyes every night, unsure if he will wake up? Does he have nightmares?—does Mr. Beast, too, experience a hell in his slumber?
It means nothing, doesn't it? His eyes portray confusion, his mouth smiling bewildered, his face smooth as a stone upon a riverbank—his expression is but a hollowed, empty, godless husk of nothing; our souls are an ocean, and Mr. Beast siphons them with a silly straw. Damned be Mr. Beast, and damned be his eyes—his eyes locked to my own, stealing my soul with two stone slabs in his sockets.