I slept every night on the cold floor. Everyone else bullied me for being smaller. Puny, squat tiny. I had no hope at all in this dark basement. My only compainan was my own thoughts. I was never noticed by the people of the mansion. I was never liked at all. I was on the sitting on the floor, attempting to get some rest until I heard foot steps. 

Thump, thump, thump

The feet got closer and a figure was talking to themself. "I think it was behind a box or something." The voice was burly and deep. The owner of the voice looked strong and tough. He looked down at me and said "OH! LOOK AT THIS TINY BOX! IT'S SO TINY!" I looked down at the floor as he picked me up. "Oh, I'm gonna call you Tiny box Tim, you're going to come on an adventure with me Tiny box Tim." The man held me close to his warm chest. It felt nice to not be on the cold floor anymore. I felt happy. 

From then on, the man named Mark called me his little biscut and brought me to his home. He let me sleep in his room where it was nice and cozy and would bring me to his computer when he played games. His silliness brought me joy and his kindness warmed my box heart. Sometimes when he wasn't home, I'd look at his computer and would see how many people has drawn me with Mark. It tickled me on how many people loved us. I couldn't be happier with the life I live today. And I owe it all to the man named Markiplier.