Depression//Phan

-1-

||Phil's POV|| (This part is sort of his POV is like a little backstory kind of, just letting you know.)

I never knew that people could be so... mean... and hateful. So full of hate! Like, what did I ever do to them? Oh, that's right. Absolutely nothing. All I do is make fun videos on YouTube for people to watch. And, at the beginning of my YouTube career, people actually liked my videos. The real fans. The ones who literally will track down the haters and maybe murder them (I don't encourage that, by the way.) The ones who still cared.

Reading the comments on my YouTube videos, my Tumblr, my Twitter, my Instagram, the posts I've been tagged in... it was all so heartbreaking. I just felt so attacked, and I didn't even do anything!

Dan, PJ, Chris, Tyler, Troye, (etc.)... nobody knew about how much it was bringing me down. I never told them that, and had to put on a fake smile for them. All they knew, or, thought, is that I was staying super strong through all the hate.

But really, this hate was bringing me down.

Strong and hard, too.

Some nights I would cry myself to sleep quietly, others I would just stay up all night crying, or some nights I would just have a slight existential crisis at night.

~

"Phil," Dan called to me from his bedroom door into the lounge.

"What?" I called back to him, waiting for a reply.

"Have you seen my laptop charger anywhere? I can't find it, and usually it's just plugged into the wall," Dan said, and I scanned the room a bit. I realized that I had it.

"Oh, it's right here," I said back to him, and he ran in as I was unplugging it from my own laptop. "Sorry, I guess I thought it was mine and I took it," I apologized.

"Don't be sorry, it's fine," he said, chuckling a bit. "But thanks, Phil!" He called, as he ran back to his room, shutting the door behind him.

I turned back to my laptop, and I had a flood of comments on YouTube. Literally, I had gotten about 100+ comments in those like, 5 seconds. I decided to read them. Maybe this time they'd be good comments. I crossed my fingers (not literally), and hoped they'd be good. I clicked on the notifications. Nope, nope, noooooooooooooope. I slammed my laptop shut. I wanted to throw it across the room in frustration.

WHY ARE PEOPLE SO MEAN? WHY DO I DESERVE THIS???

I always tried to be nice to people, even when I wasn't feeling my best. Even when I was upset or sad. Even when I wasn't in the best mood and wanted to stay away from people. Even when I was so down and broken deep inside... I was always nice to people, even if it was someone I didn't take a liking for or despised. I was always the cheery, happy, and silly Phil. Even if I still have to fake it so people aren't worried. I try to be the same Phil that everyone knows and (a small portion of the fans now) loves. The one people care for. The one that people are happy to be around. The one that makes people smile. What did I ever do to deserve it? Probably nothing. It was probably just people who had a bit too much haterade to drink and are now drunk on it -- 24/7. It's constantly stressing me out and bringing me down slowly, little by little, second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour... you get what I mean. And I never got a break from it. Ever.

~

It was nearing dinner time.

"Daaaaaaan!" I called to Dan. He emerged from his room a few minutes later.

"Phiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiil!" He replied, mimicking how I called his name, coming into the kitchen where I was.

"It's dinner timeeeeeee," I said to him. "What do you want to eat?"