Phan Imagines

Existential Crisis

Panic.

That was the only thing I could think right now.

Not even the kind of panic where you're frantic and energetic, but the kind where your whole body goes slightly numb, all all you feel and hear is a monotone buzz that doesn't exist but is very clear in your mind.

And everything is grey; you aren't happy, you aren't sad, you are grey. And that is the scary part, because even you don't know your own emotions.

And that is when the panic starts.

The thinking about your existence, imagining what it would be like if you hadn't been born, if you hadn't said or done that one thing.

It's what I like to call: An Existential Crisis.

The people who watch my videos are aware that I get these all the time. What they aren't aware of is that they aren't just moments of random deep thinking and then it's back to normal, I am panicking and scaring myself for days on end sometimes. The longest time was when Phil went away and I was on my own in the apartment.
People could tell from my tweets that I wasn't feeling great, but 140 characters definitely wasn't enough for whatever else I had wanted to say; what I was properly feeling.

Lost? Vulnerable? Hopeless?
All of them, all at once, all just in my head.

I.E, my current emotions.

I'm in my room.
I'm not on the bed, its too soft and it wouldn't feel real enough.
So I'm crouched in a corner on the floor, facing the wall.

I tap my fingers on the skirting board, and if I feel like I'm slipping out of reality, every so often I bump my head lightly against the wall.

Phil is out, which is making me even more insane.
If he was here then I could just go and be with him, have him tell me it's alright and that everything is okay.
But he's out getting milk for some weird reason (he dreamt that we didn't have milk so he went to buy some... even though we have milk), so here I am over thinking my existence, pondering the futility of things and giving myself a headache.

'Okay.' I mutter to myself, trying to regain a sense of stability and reality.

'Okay, okay, okay. It's okay. There's nothing to panic about.'

I shake my head.

'Then what the bloody hell am I panicking about!?'

I groan and let my head flop forward against the wall, creating a soft 'thunk' noise.

'Dan?'

My slightly sore head remains in place, but I feel my body relax a tiny bit at the sound of Phil's worried voice.

I hear the rustle of plastic bags being placed on the floor, then footsteps, then Phil is crouching next to me, his hand on my shoulder.

'Dan?' He repeats, softer this time.

'Hello.' I whisper, attempting a weak shadow of a smile.

'C'mere.'

Phil wraps his arms around me and lets my head take its place on his left shoulder instead of against the wall. He hugs me gently, as if he's scared I might crumble, but he's still still warm and stable and safe.

He releases gradually, and studies my face, a concerned look on his own. He wipes my cheek with his thumb and looks at my eyes carefully.

'Dan, you've been crying.'

What?

I feel like crap, but I didn't realise I had actually cried.

I frown and touch my cheek, confirming his observation by the small drops of salt water that stay on my fingers.