People Say (Phan Fiction)

So, this is where I start. People say that the first big step is saying that you have a problem. Now, I'm supposed to want to get better because I have the courage to deal with it head on. What if I can't? What if, accepting that there's something wrong only makes life worse?

People were bullying me before, calling me weird and excluding me from everything. They were bulling me before because I'm gay and have a boyfriend. They'd call us derogatory names, push us into lockers and throw us into dumpsters. I would cry onto my boyfriends shoulder, while he would try and comfort me. I still do, only now they now about my 'condition'.

It's like when you call a kid with glasses 'Four Eyes', you make fun of them even though you don't necessarily know them. You think 'Oh, they have glasses. That means they're smarter than me. I'll beat them up.' It's a stereotype and is unhealthy. So, when the kids at my school found out that I cut myself, well, they had a field day.

Teachers try, but they don't really try. You can put a kid in detention all you want, but what good is it going to do when they don't learn. Expulsion dosen't help either, they can still get you when you're off school grounds. I'm getting off topic.

Yeah, I cut myself. Don't call me emo though, I'm still the same person. I still make you laugh when I joke around in class. I can still make you cry if you inslut the person I love. I guess you need to know who I am and who I'm talking about.

MY NAME IS DANIEL HOWELL AND I LOVE PHILLIP LESTER.

I feel better now that you can give me a face. Now, you have a better idea of who I am and how I feel.  You don't really. Not unless you feel like I do. Like there's a dark hole just waiting to swallow you up in one big gulp. I'm getting off topic again.

So, yeah I'm still me. People just don't seem to notice 'me' anymore. All they see is an emo British kid in skinny jeans and a knife in his hand. Everybody wants to help, especially Phil. He was angry that I didn't tell him sooner. He found me on the bathroom floor, with a deep gash in the crook of my elbow. He stayed by me until the ambulance came, then waited in hospital for me to wake up. I hope he's right.

People say that the first big step is saying you have a problem. I think that the first big step is trying to tackle the problem. You can tell a thousand people that you know you have a problem, but that doesn't mean anything until you actually do something about it.

AUTHOR'S NOTE : So, I wrote this while listening to the song to the left. I should tell people that I don't self harm. It's wrong and should never be even thought about. Sorry if it's too depressing or doesn't flow like it should, it's how it came out. This is my first fic, please be nice :)