If living was the hardest part

Fuck

*dans pov*

Thump

He lay there in a pool of blood on the floor

'Why didn't you call a fucking paramedic when he was alive you fucktard!' My subconscious argues

'Maybe because he said he was gay and had a crush on me!!' I argue back, I wasn't homophobic but like... I don't want someone who wants to fuck me living in my house- unless it was my future wife/gf- it's awkward

I dial 999 secretly hoping that they come too late to save him so I can avoid the awkward conversation of "get out of my house Phil I don't think I can live with you be you have a crush on me and you work at a gay strip club and do drugs and have a achohol addiction, sorry mate" but the paramedics come quickly and ask me if I want to come I say no, but I'll visit the hospital in the morning, I don't think I can look at Phil today "that disgusting faggot" some small voice mutters in my head but I can't not think about how true it is, he is disgusting and a faggot, "you know you want him to die" it was true I did.

I wanted him to die

But not for any of the above reasons

His bright blue eyes

His raven black hair

His smile

In other words my hair is like my sexuality

I like it straight

I want it straight

I tell it to be straight and I tell others it is

But it's really not

I would blame Phil

But I never liked liked girls

I guess this is a way to explain to myself

I'm no better than Phil

I am gay

*authors note*

Sorry this is shit

I've had a shit day

Bye for now

Please comment if you like it and idc if you vote but if you do I will give you a cookie 🍪 or a sweet if you lactose intolerant like me - and Phil 🍥