pastelspectre
Memento Mori★
- 2,167
- Posts
- 14
- Years
- Age 26
- The Pacific Northwest
- Seen Feb 6, 2024
Warning: This has swearing in it and it contains self harm, schizophrenia and suicide. If you don't like those topics, back out now.
Dan said his good nights to Phil, and climbed into his bed. He sighs. It always hit hardest at night. The voices. They came back always at night, and he couldn't control it. Horrible things, they said to him. They called him fat, or ugly, or told him that he didn't deserve to live. Dan always asked why he was alive. Because, why was he even alive? He didn't feel he should even stay on this planet. The voices convinced him that no one loves him, that he's ugly and that he has no reason to stay here. He turns over on his side, facing the wall. He hated what he felt. He just wanted it to go away. But they wouldn't. He was silently going insane because of them, and he could do nothing about it because he had no one to confide in. He clamps his hands over his ears, hoping that would help make them go away. But it didn't, they just kept going and saying such rude things to him.
He puts his hands off his ears, and sighs, sitting up. Inside his head, it was scary. It was complicated and scary, that's for sure. Suicidal thoughts running through his head, voices coming from every direction, just everything he didn't want. He sits up on the side of his bed, his feet hanging off the bed. He bit his lip.
"You're so ugly! You don't deserve to live. And you love Phil, your oh so beloved boyfriend. He'll never like you back. He's not gay, unlike you. Disgusting little thing. Don't you know when to quit?" The voice told him. Dan had this voice for a while now. He wasn't sure what gender it was, or if it sounded familiar to him at all.
"S-shut up!" He yells, obviously knowing to anyone else it would look like he was talking to no one. "You don't know he won't like me back.." he whispers, looking down at the ground.
"Why should I? I do know Phil won't like you back, because he's not into frilly, pathetic little gay ******s like you. And you know it's true, you just can't admit it. You know, they say only the insane talk to themselves. I drive you insane, I can tell. All these thoughts running through your head. And you deserve it. You're a pathetic little thing. You shouldn't even be alive, no one loves you." The voice said again.
Dan looks down. Maybe it was right, Phil wouldn't like him back. He shudders, thinking of what would happen if he confessed his feelings to the black-haired boy. He'd probably kick him out, call him names, anything. He gets up from his bed, flickering his eyes over to the small round table in between his dresser and his bed. Maybe he could do it. It was calling out to him, after all, and who had discovered it anyways? No one. Because they didn't care.
"Do it. I dare you. I want to see you carve words so deeply into your skin that you just die right then and there." Dan shakes his head, sitting back down on the bed, clutching the bedsheets tightly, his knuckles turning white.
"N-no. I'm not doing it! I..I won't listen to you. Just shut up! Why can't you leave me alone?" He tries to yell, but it came out more like a whimper, a cry for help. He knew he probably sounded pathetic to the voice. He knew he did, really. Even the voice itself agreed.
"I'm not ever stopping. I'll stay with you, forever and ever." Dan growls, gritting his teeth in frustration. He eventually can't take it anymore. He pulls his sleeve up, moving one hand to his arm, digging his nails in deeply. Not enough relief.. He moves over to grab the razor blade from his small round table and sets it to his wrist, cutting deeply, carving words in his skin. Just like the voice said. He really was going to listen to him. Because he was weak. He was a ****ing weak ******. He throws the razor blade to the floor, and slides off his bed and onto the floor entangling his own hands in his hair, pulling at it with deep frustration and anger.
He couldn't live with them anymore, he just couldn't. Before he even knew it, tears started dripping down his face, and he moves his hands down to his face to wipe them off roughly. He knew what he had to do. He gets up, walking to his dresser and takes a piece of paper. He grabs a pen and starts writing.
"Phil, I'm sorry. By the time you get this, I might be dead already. I'm sorry for any grief I've caused you, any trouble, anything, I didn't mean it, honest. I just want to let you know…what I'm about to do, it's not your fault. It's mine. I can't live with them anymore. They're too much for me. I'm sorry, Phil.. I love you. Don't you ever forget about me.
Sincerely,
your best friend, Dan."
He sets the note down on his dresser once he's done writing, noticing he got some tear stains on it but hopes they fade away eventually.
"Oh, good. You're finally going to do it. Be rid of yourself, you ugly little scum. No one loves you. It's not like Phil will even care that you're gone anyways. He never loved you and never will." Dan bites his lip harshly, ignoring the voice and walks out the door. Eventually, he got to a bridge nearby his house. He climbs to the top, and sits on the edge of it, his feet dangling off.
"Finally.." he whispers, seeing his breath in the cold, wintery air. "I'll be rid of myself. Everyone will be happy." He stands up, turning around and putting his arms out to his sides, like he was going to fly. He leans back, feeling the rush of adrenaline and fear he felt.
Finally, i'll become one with the stars.
Dan said his good nights to Phil, and climbed into his bed. He sighs. It always hit hardest at night. The voices. They came back always at night, and he couldn't control it. Horrible things, they said to him. They called him fat, or ugly, or told him that he didn't deserve to live. Dan always asked why he was alive. Because, why was he even alive? He didn't feel he should even stay on this planet. The voices convinced him that no one loves him, that he's ugly and that he has no reason to stay here. He turns over on his side, facing the wall. He hated what he felt. He just wanted it to go away. But they wouldn't. He was silently going insane because of them, and he could do nothing about it because he had no one to confide in. He clamps his hands over his ears, hoping that would help make them go away. But it didn't, they just kept going and saying such rude things to him.
He puts his hands off his ears, and sighs, sitting up. Inside his head, it was scary. It was complicated and scary, that's for sure. Suicidal thoughts running through his head, voices coming from every direction, just everything he didn't want. He sits up on the side of his bed, his feet hanging off the bed. He bit his lip.
"You're so ugly! You don't deserve to live. And you love Phil, your oh so beloved boyfriend. He'll never like you back. He's not gay, unlike you. Disgusting little thing. Don't you know when to quit?" The voice told him. Dan had this voice for a while now. He wasn't sure what gender it was, or if it sounded familiar to him at all.
"S-shut up!" He yells, obviously knowing to anyone else it would look like he was talking to no one. "You don't know he won't like me back.." he whispers, looking down at the ground.
"Why should I? I do know Phil won't like you back, because he's not into frilly, pathetic little gay ******s like you. And you know it's true, you just can't admit it. You know, they say only the insane talk to themselves. I drive you insane, I can tell. All these thoughts running through your head. And you deserve it. You're a pathetic little thing. You shouldn't even be alive, no one loves you." The voice said again.
Dan looks down. Maybe it was right, Phil wouldn't like him back. He shudders, thinking of what would happen if he confessed his feelings to the black-haired boy. He'd probably kick him out, call him names, anything. He gets up from his bed, flickering his eyes over to the small round table in between his dresser and his bed. Maybe he could do it. It was calling out to him, after all, and who had discovered it anyways? No one. Because they didn't care.
"Do it. I dare you. I want to see you carve words so deeply into your skin that you just die right then and there." Dan shakes his head, sitting back down on the bed, clutching the bedsheets tightly, his knuckles turning white.
"N-no. I'm not doing it! I..I won't listen to you. Just shut up! Why can't you leave me alone?" He tries to yell, but it came out more like a whimper, a cry for help. He knew he probably sounded pathetic to the voice. He knew he did, really. Even the voice itself agreed.
"I'm not ever stopping. I'll stay with you, forever and ever." Dan growls, gritting his teeth in frustration. He eventually can't take it anymore. He pulls his sleeve up, moving one hand to his arm, digging his nails in deeply. Not enough relief.. He moves over to grab the razor blade from his small round table and sets it to his wrist, cutting deeply, carving words in his skin. Just like the voice said. He really was going to listen to him. Because he was weak. He was a ****ing weak ******. He throws the razor blade to the floor, and slides off his bed and onto the floor entangling his own hands in his hair, pulling at it with deep frustration and anger.
He couldn't live with them anymore, he just couldn't. Before he even knew it, tears started dripping down his face, and he moves his hands down to his face to wipe them off roughly. He knew what he had to do. He gets up, walking to his dresser and takes a piece of paper. He grabs a pen and starts writing.
"Phil, I'm sorry. By the time you get this, I might be dead already. I'm sorry for any grief I've caused you, any trouble, anything, I didn't mean it, honest. I just want to let you know…what I'm about to do, it's not your fault. It's mine. I can't live with them anymore. They're too much for me. I'm sorry, Phil.. I love you. Don't you ever forget about me.
Sincerely,
your best friend, Dan."
He sets the note down on his dresser once he's done writing, noticing he got some tear stains on it but hopes they fade away eventually.
"Oh, good. You're finally going to do it. Be rid of yourself, you ugly little scum. No one loves you. It's not like Phil will even care that you're gone anyways. He never loved you and never will." Dan bites his lip harshly, ignoring the voice and walks out the door. Eventually, he got to a bridge nearby his house. He climbs to the top, and sits on the edge of it, his feet dangling off.
"Finally.." he whispers, seeing his breath in the cold, wintery air. "I'll be rid of myself. Everyone will be happy." He stands up, turning around and putting his arms out to his sides, like he was going to fly. He leans back, feeling the rush of adrenaline and fear he felt.
Finally, i'll become one with the stars.