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“Hey, Dan, I’m going to go run some errands, maybe go to the shopping center and get some dinner. Want to come?” Phil yells to me all the way across the flat.
“No, thanks, though. I think I’m going to stay here and work on filming a video.” I yell back.
“What’s it about?” Phil exclaims.
“I’m going to title it, ‘Our Lord and Savior, Pepe the Frog’ if that gives you any clues” I say.
“Alrighty then,” Phil chuckles. “Call me if you need anything, Love. Bye!” Phil called as he walked out the door.
I can’t do this anymore. I’m just trying to be me and be happy, why is that so horrible? I wanted to look and be a boy. I hated being a girl; ever since I hit puberty everything has just felt so wrong. I wasn’t meant to be my mother’s perfect daughter. So, I cut my hair short and I started flattening my chest with a chest binder. I wore a lot of Phil’s clothes and other ones I bought for myself at Topman. I asked for my friends to call me Dan and use he/him pronouns. When I meet new people I introduce myself as such. ‘Hello, my name is Dan Howell’ makes me so happy. It feels just right. It feels like me.
Sing me to sleep
I'm tired and I-
I want to go to bed
When I met Phil so many years ago now, he knew me as the girl I once was, but look at him, he doesn’t care and he still loves me so why am I listening to people on the internet? Why do I care about the judgements of complete and random strangers? I shouldnt, they don’t know me, but they tell me all sorts of horrible things. They tell me that I’m gross and that I’m a little ‘faggot’. I listened to them and once you do that for a while, it becomes engrained in you and you believe every word they say because they must know you better than you know yourself, right?
Sing me to sleep
And then leave me alone
I just can’t deal with all the hate anymore. It keeps piling on me and I hate it so much. I hate myself so much. They’re all so right, though. I wish I wasn’t that weird gross fag idiot kid. I want to be better than this, but this is all I am. I don’t deserve Phil, he is so much better than I am. He must hate me too. I just want to not exist anymore so he doesn’t have to be dragged down by me everyday of his life. I just want to die and make his life so much easier.
Don't try to wake me in the morning
'Cause I will be gone
I run my hands through my 2007 emo/jpop band hair and sigh. I want to die, and I have wanted to for a while now. I have notes written to my parents and Phil ready to go. I have my box of trusty razors under my bed and my thighs that are already littered with scars are calling their name. I need to cut the pain away. I need to stop existing. Maybe if I die I’ll decompose and finally be useful for once.
Don't feel bad for me
I want you to know
I take out one of the razors and take the notes with me into the bathroom. I don’t bother locking the door. Phil already knows about the cutting and has tried to help me stop. He thinks that I have been clean for about 6 months now, but he is somehow easily deceived. Plus, he will get home after I’m dead, anyways. I lay the notes down on the floor beside me and roll up my sleeves. All my other cuts and scars are on my thighs, but these can be special. You make tiny cuts when you're a wuss that is a coward and afraid of making that brave leap into the other side. You cut vertically down your wrist and very deep to end up in the morgue. That’s exactly what I need to do right now at this moment.
I’m going to kill myself.
That thought, although it has run through my head thousands of times before, sends a shiver down my spine. Never in all the many times that I have thought it, has it actually been the reality, that woah, I’m going to take my life away. Maybe I’ll get the sweet relief and calmness that I have wanted for so long. Everything will be silent and I can just relax.
Deep in the cell of my heart
I will feel so glad to go
It’s sad really that the only reason that I haven’t killed myself yet is because I don’t want to hurt anyone but the reason I want to kill myself is because everyone is hurting me.
I know Phil will miss me but he won’t miss me too much. No one will really miss me. Sure, there will be some hardcore fans that will pretend that they care about me, but lots of the people on Twitter will be glad to see me gone. I open my phone and accidentally turn the front camera on to see myself. I’m hideous: ugly and fat, with tears streaming down my face. I’m pathetic really. Why would anyone want me on this planet. I’m a gigantic waste of space.
I finish looking over the notes to make sure they are perfect before setting them to the side in order to not get blood upon them. There is a note for my parents, for my fans, and for Phil. I read Phil’s and it really struck me about how I’d never see my perfect soulmate ever again, but in the end I know that this is the best thing for me.
Dearest Phil,
I love you so much. I’m sorry I have been such a burden on you for the past few years. This is not your fault in any way. The hate has just become too much lately. You are the only thing that has been keeping me here. You have made me the happiest you could, although happiness is pretty much nonexistent in my life right now and has been for a while now. You have been the most perfect boyfriend anyone could ask for in the whole wide world. I’m sorry I wasn’t any better at anything. I’m sorry I am so annoying and clingy and antisocial. I didn’t want to be such a horrible person. I’m so sorry for everything. Keep making Youtube videos. Tell the Phandom that I am truly sorry. I love you and I know you’ll do great things, Babe.
Love,
Daniel James Howell
There is another world
There is a better world
I set the note aside and reach down to pick up the metallic silver blade. I put it to my wrist and sigh. This blade and I have been through a lot of things together and this is the end, finally. This is it, these are my last moments of life, my last breaths. Soon the stardust in body will rejoin the earth once again where it belongs.
Well, there must be
Well, there must be
Bye, bye, bye...
My phone rings just as I was about to pull the blade towards me and spill my blood onto the ceramic tile below me. I pick it up and see that it’s Phil. I really shouldn’t answer it, I’ll feel so guilty. But, I can’t die without saying goodbye first. I pick up the phone.
“Hello?” I greet hoping this will be fast, but I need to hear his voice.
“Hey, Dan do you need me to buy anything at the store?”
“Oh, n-no thanks, Phil” I stutter.
“Dan, are you okay?” Phil asks, genuinely concerned.
I sniffle, trying to contain my soft sobs, “Y-yeh. I’m really s-sorry Phil.”
“I coming home Dan. You’re worrying me. I’ll be there in a minute.” And with that, Phil hangs up.
I debate continuing and ending my life but hearing his voice has stopped me. He cares about me. Maybe not everyone hates me. I put the razor back and go lay in my bed, sobbing. Why is everyone else so horrid to me, yet Phil is an angel? I don’t deserve him. I read more hate mail on my phone calling me stupid and ugly and a horrible mess until I hear the door open and Phil walk into the flat.
“Dan? Dan, where are you? Are you okay?” he shouts from the living room.
I have to look like I’m not crying. “I’m in bed” I yell back, trying hard to brush off the tears that are still falling down my cheeks. I hear him walk towards my room and cautiously stop in the doorway.
"Dan, a-are you crying?" he asks timidly.
"N-no" I said, but let out a sob letting my boyfriend know that I am lying to him.
"Oh, Dan," Phil sits on the bed next to me and cuddles me gently, "What happened?"
"I hate the people on the internet, Phil. They keep reminding me that I’m not really a boy and I’m just an ugly faggot and you deserve someone way better than me.” I sob, talking very quickly. “I was going to kill myself until you called me.”
Phil tenses up and starts crying a bit. He stares into my eyes and I stare back into the crystal blue waves of his. He reaches for my hand and picks it up, holding it in his own.
“Daniel James Howell, that is your name and you are just as much boy as I am. You are not any of those words that strangers on the internet are saying you are unless they are saying you’re handsome and beautiful, because that is quite true. And Dan, I adore you so much I don’t know what I did to deserve you because you are such a wonderful human being and without you I don’t know where I’d be. You deserve to be on this planet more than anyone else I know and I’m going to help you realize that you are better than your cuts and scars, hun. You are stronger than this. We will get through this together.” Phil states empathetically and defiantly, even through a few voice cracks, as he lays next to me and cuddles.
And we just lay there, in silence. It’s not an awkward silence, though, it’s more of a comforting silence. There’s still noise around me: the sound of cars outside the flat, the fan above my head, Phil breathing next to me, my own heartbeat; It’s calming. I turn to face Phil. He is asleep now and looks like an angel. His hair is a little messy from the pillow, yet it is perfect. He has a small smile on his face as if he is at peace. He is so cute. He is the literal sunshine in my life and I don’t know what I’d do without him. I obviously wouldn’t be here to witness him so delicately laying beside me. I’m so in love.
I could lay here for the rest of my life if I wanted, hearing Phil’s and my heartbeat sync together. Knowing that some way, somehow, things can’t always be this sucky. They will have to get better, I will have to get better. I have Phil and I have myself and we will get through this. Everything Phil said is true, and I mean, I’m not magically cured or anything, but I have a little bit more hope than I did a few minutes ago. I play with his hair for a few moments before I decide to close my eyes and fall asleep next to the love of my life.
Goodnight, Phil
I love you. xx