Going, Going, Gone. [phanfiction]

... Going ...

Dear Dan,
Why did you go? Why did you leave me? You should have known that I would be nothing without you. I can't cope.
It's been a week since I last wrote to you, I'm sorry it's been so long. I went to your funeral today. I always thought I'd be an old man going to Dan Howell's funeral, but the world hasn't made that possible. I tried to pull myself together, but it was like trying to fix china with sellotape; it didn't work. I was just about coping, but then I had to get up and speak, so you can imagine how that went. The little pieces broke free of the sellotape and shattered into smaller pieces on the floor. I'm sorry, but I made a fool of myself at your funeral.
The doctor gave me more pills for my depression today, but it's stupid because I'm not going to take them. 
Mum is staying here at the moment to 'keep an eye on me' but I wish she wasn't, because she's getting in the way a bit. She's trying to make me get out of bed, but I don't want to. Sleep is the closest I get to nothingness, which is good. Also, she's sleeping in your room, which I don't want her to do because it's your place. It's where I go when I need to be with you more than ever, because you're everywhere in there. You're in the pages of the books on the shelf, the dust between the piano keys, and the sweet smell of your bed sheets. I don't want your smell to go. It's just you in there, and you are all I need right now anyway.
I don't know when I'll write to you again, but hopefully soon. I'll hide this book from mum, because she'll probably try and take it away from me. She'd say that it's bad for me and I need to let go of you. We'll keep it out little secret, yeah? Speak soon,
Love from Phil xx