All My Fanfics

We should be glad of death

Description: Highschool AU???? i'm not really into this whole au thing, haha. basically standard phan sadness that we all need for some peculiar reason.
warnings: swearing, existential crisis-ey urgh mentions of suicide? we all know where this is going.
word count: 833.
A/N: I really like this one. It took me a while to finish but yknow, i think it was worth it. READ IT

Look at me dan. look at me. I'm dead inside. I look at myself and I'm nothing. I look inside myself and I'm a jumble of memories, an open suitcase and clothes scattered on the street.

Dan, why don't you look at me? Dan. I'm here, Daniel.

I want the easy life back, Dan. I want the black and white, with no gray. I want the heroes and the villains - which am I Dan? I don't know anymore.

I see you in the hallway, and you're so cute Dan. The way your hair bounces. How your hands tap-tap-tap on the corner of your files. I see you. Why don't you see me, Dan?

Is is because of the green-eyed girl? The one in the blue sweater. I saw you look at her. Not like you look at me.

Don't you fucking understand? I don't know where I am Dan. My world is a black abyss of nothingness and you're the light. You're the light at the end of the tunnel, Dan. Why did you go?

You're friends with everyone Dan. Every - Fucking - Human - On - This - Fucking - Earth. Except me. What was I to you, Dan? Was I experimentation? Was I a mere plaything?

News flash Dan! Nothing. Matters. Once you realize we are all scum, cancerous polyps on the penis of humanity, festering boils on the rotting corpse of society, you are liberated.

My beautiful Dan. My sweet, innocent, gorgeous, naïve Daniel. The world is governed by chaos and chance. So what's the point?

My classmates always say, "Good and evil are simply authoritarian and repressive categories imposed by the ruling caste." Why, though? Why does the separation of the two need to be this bad thing?

I look around me and I'm sad. I'm sad because I can have anything I want Dan. I can have anything but I don't want any of it because I keep thinking about you. I want my soul to be filled with passion, and love, and life, but then I realize. You're the passion. You're the love. You're my life. And I fucking hate you for that.

I want every nook and cranny of my being, every empty fibre and cell to be overflowing with a hunger for something - for anything! But no. Because you know what? The only hunger I have is for you to hug me and tell me that you do love me, you were never lying. And that hunger makes my throat ache and my heart pump furiously to make up for the loss of energy - especially when you're around.

I want meaning. I want purpose. I want to be able to die for someone, or something. No, no. I want to be able to live for someone. And, low and behold, that someone is you, Dan. It's you, it'll always be you, it'll never not be you.

I want an inevitable, irresistible faith. Faith in Jesus? Maybe. Faith in anything really. I want screams and arrows, I want angels whose eyes shine like the sun, I want mountains falling into seas, chariots with burning wheels and I want to be sucked in by this vortex of faith, so powerful, so absolute that I will be full and I will never have another desire. But then I realize. That is the exact representation of my love for you.
Don't you get it Dan? Don't you? DON'T YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU DID TO ME?

Everything that I ever wanted in my life, you gave to me. You gave me everything I wanted by reciprocating three words that promised a forever of your kisses.
And you ripped it away from me so fully. I will never be the same, Dan.

"What do you want from me Phil? Do you want me to live the rest of my life lying to myself? I don't love you like I did before. You're... you're holding me back."

Every day I wonder if you know how much pain that caused me. I remember later that day, I went to the beach. We used to love going there. I looked at the ocean, I heard it wail, moan, cry out.

Above the babel of wails, I hear a voice above the incessant chatter of Londoners, a gentle spray, a siren's song. It calls me into the water.

I wonder if I should just walk into the sea, let the water fill my nose and ears and mouth. I wouldn't be trapped in this alien world full of people who were so blind to the truth.

That day, at the shore of the beach, our beach, as a trickle of salty water travelled down my face - must've been the spray of the sea - I realized.

I would, from that point on, be a shell of the man I used to be. I was completely empty on the inside. I had no one, nothing to live for. I was just a spirit, floating around. And -

We should be glad of death.