Depression//Phan

-15-

(Extreme tw: This chapter is going to be very depressing. It may be really triggering for some. There will be mentions of su*c*dal thoughts, d*pr*ssion, s*lf-h*rm. Beware and be careful. Know your limits <3)

So they did just that.

They got Phil a therapist.

But Phil wasn't getting much better.

He hasn't gotten to see his therapist yet, and it wasn't for another couple of days.

Each day he checked the internet, his depression only got worse, and he fell deeper and deeper into it. Why was he letting it consume him? He didn't know. What he did know though was that he was going to have to detach himself from social media really soon.

Like, really, really soon.

He was very close to reaching his final breaking point.

The happy little (pill hehehe) Phil wasn't so happy anymore.

And now he just wants to die. He doesn't want to live anymore.

He doesn't post videos much anymore, he hardly ever smiles, he's become a bit of an introvert (even more than he has been before when living with Dan) due to developing severe anxiety issues. Philip Michael Lester now has so many problems, he can't count them all.

The thing is, Dan doesn't know about any of this at all. What he thinks is Phil is just being really slow about getting better.

Phil cries in secret, when he knows Dan is asleep or out. Sometimes, Phil cried himself to sleep even when Dan was gone, and Dan would come home thinking he just took a nap.

{NOW}

Phil was currently in the middle of the hallway, sprawled out on the floor, just sobbing. Dan wouldn't be home for another few hours. Phil had the whole flat to himself for a few more hours.

Words haunted Phil, echoing in his head.

"You're a nothing. Dan doesn't love you. He isn't even your friend. He's faking it."

"You're so ugly. Kill yourself."

"Just die already. Nobody wants you here anymore."

"Why do you still exist? Your existence has no point being on Earth."

He was now beginning to hate himself. Like, a lot.

Soon enough, Phil stood up, simply leaving his phone open and where it was.

Cutting wasn't getting to be enough to relieve the pain for him.

He walks to his room and grabs a notebook, as well as a pen. Shakily, he scrawls out,

"Dan,

So, hi... I love you so much, and I don't want to hurt you or be a burden in your life anymore. You don't need me... I'm just someone in your life with not much significance besides the titles 'Boyfriend' and 'Best friend'. But did you notice? All those words have 'end' at the end of it, meaning it eventually comes to an end. Just like my life at this point. By the time you read this, I'll already be gone. Don't even bother taking me to a hospital to have them try to fix me, because I'll be dead. Take care of yourself for me, and stay alive for me. I'll watch over you and protect you. You're better off without me.

Love,
Phil."

A few tears smudged the ink here and there, but it was still perfectly legible and easy to read. He leaves it in a spot he knows Dan will most definitely check, before rushing to the bathroom.

He has his hands on the edge of the sink, and he looks up at himself.

Ugly.

Pathetic.

Those were the only words he could use to describe himself at the moment.

He then looks down into the sink, just staring down into it. His eyes trail just to the left of it, where the small silver object sat.

So familiar, so deadly.

He picks it up and begins to line it up with a previous scar, before beginning to make the cuts.

Today, he made so many more than usual. He was actually trying to die this time.

There was so much blood going down the drain.

Once he was done cutting up both wrists and even a little higher up than his forearm, he began to feel really dizzy.

Phil collapses to the floor, and the last thing he hears before passing out is the door opening.

Dan was home.

He hoped this was truly the end for him this time, where he can be really happy.