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Title: Curse
Author: Le moi (Ninjabuscus)
Genre: Kind of sad?
Rating: All the people of all the ages!
Warnings: Swear words?
Disclaimer: One does not own Dan (DanIsNotOnFire) or Phil (AmazingPhil) None of this is real, just something I made up with my simple and bored brain. Do you see what boredom does to some people?
Author's Note: Enjoy!
Seven months and twenty-six days earlier

Dan’s PoV

Phil has been seeing Hayley for around four months now. I’ve met her, and she is a lovely person, and quite pretty as well. She has dark green eyes, pale skin and long bright blue hair. She is nice to everyone as well, but I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. She has Phil and I don’t. They’ve been meeting up almost every day, so I don’t see Phil that much anymore. I only ever see him in the morning and for about a minute when he returns from seeing Hayley, I’m always in my room and ‘asleep’ when he comes back.

I’ve been sleeping a lot lately. There’s always something in my brain telling me that sleeping will help, that all my troubles will go away. I’ve been sleeping from nine o’clock in the evening until about ten o’clock in the morning. I sleep for about thirteen hours, yet everything has stayed the same. Phil always asks me if I’m OK, if there’s some sort of problem , if I’m feeling ill. I never answer him truthfully, because I’ve just gotten myself in a spiral of lies that just keeps on spiralling. I always answer yes I’m OK, no there isn’t any problem, I’m not ill. Really, the answers are no Phil I’m not OK, there is a problem, and I’m love sick. I’m even calling it some sort of illness now. Great.

About once a week Phil stays at home, these moments I attempt to treasure. By attempt I mean try not to make anything obvious so Phil doesn’t suspect anything, that’s harder than it sounds. Whenever his ebony fringe needs adjusting, I want to do it for him. When I talk to him, my heart beats ten times faster, as if it’s about to just burst out of my chest. When I look into his bright blue eyes, I just get lost in them. This is why it’s such a problem to treasure every moment, I just act really awkwardly and Phil always asks the same questions.

It’s four in the afternoon; Phil went to meet Hayley a couple of hours ago. He told me he won’t be back until about six or seven. I’ve just been sat in my room, writing in the journal I started just after Phil went to meet Hayley for the first time. I’ve filled with entries expressing my heart ache, poems showing all my problems and feelings that I can’t find any other way to express. There’s the poem I’m finishing writing now. It has no title.

Love.

Sometimes called a blessing,

A miracle from above,

For me it’s just depressing,

But my pain isn’t enough,

It’s like a poisonous flower,

Beautiful yet deadly,

People say love is power,

They’re just trying to make it sound friendly,

It’s like a roaring fire,

Gorgeous yet pain it transmits...

I pause for a moment, trying to come up with the perfect way to conclude this poem.

Love is nothing but a curse,

No matter how many times you fall in it,

You only end up hurt .

I lay down my pen and re-read the poem I just wrote. It almost perfectly describes what love is, well to me anyway. People say that if you write something down, it gets better. It doesn’t. Poems express my pain, yet do nothing to ease it. Maybe if I write something else it will help. That’s what I always say, hoping that there is truth behind my words. I pick up my pen again and just start doodling. Llamas, sonic, lyrics to songs I like. After a few minutes I put down my pen again and look to see what random doodles I have created. Almost the entire page is smudged. Confused, I look at my hand to see it is covered in ink. Why is it that life discriminates against left handed people?

“For fucks sake…” I mutter under my breath as I got up and went to the bathroom.

I opened the door of the bathroom and turned on the light, closing the door behind me. I walked over to the sink, started running the hot water and began washing the ink off my hand.

“I swear, for some reason God hates me…” I said to myself. “I think we are past when I accidently burnt that bible, it must be something else. Let’s see…” As much as I try to think of what I could have done, I can’t. Even with my clumsiness and constant procrastination, nothing springs into mind.

Then I started daydreaming. I don’t know how long for, but then something caught my eye. The door to the medicine cabinet was open very slightly. The light seemed to be reflecting off of something. I turned off the tap then opened the medicine cabinet door. What had caught my eye was a single razor blade that must have fallen out of the open packet next to it. I stared, entranced by it. My brain began going through some sort of thought process. Could this be a possible solution? I reached for the razor blade then snatched my hand back and stared at it. No, it can’t be. There must be another way. I tried to think of this other way, but couldn’t. I looked back up at the lone razor blade. At this point in time I’m running out of options and a possible solution. I reach out for the blade and hold it in the palm of my right hand. I stare at it, maybe it could help…

I shook my head. No. I won’t unless I have exhausted all other options. There will be another, better solution to my problem. Right now this isn’t it. I don’t put the blade back though. With it still in my hand, I walked out of the bathroom and back to my room. Sitting down on my bed, I grab my notebook and place the razor blade inside it and close it.

Just in case, I thought to myself. I’ll never need it though, I will find another solution.

Present day

I look down into the waters below, my reflection looking back up at me. I remember when I said I’d never need it, that I would find another solution. Soon after I thought I had found a solution, but I was so wrong.

And when I said I would never need the blade, I subconsciously grab my right arm, it was just another lie…

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Title: Curse
Author: Le moi (Ninjabuscus)
Genre: Kind of sad?
Rating: All the people of all the ages!
Warnings: Swear words?
Disclaimer: One does not own Dan (DanIsNotOnFire) or Phil (AmazingPhil) None of this is real, just something I made up with my simple and bored brain. Do you see what boredom does to some people?
Author's Note: Enjoy!
Seven months and twenty-six days earlier

Dan’s PoV

Phil has been seeing Hayley for around four months now. I’ve met her, and she is a lovely person, and quite pretty as well. She has dark green eyes, pale skin and long bright blue hair. She is nice to everyone as well, but I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. She has Phil and I don’t. They’ve been meeting up almost every day, so I don’t see Phil that much anymore. I only ever see him in the morning and for about a minute when he returns from seeing Hayley, I’m always in my room and ‘asleep’ when he comes back.

I’ve been sleeping a lot lately. There’s always something in my brain telling me that sleeping will help, that all my troubles will go away. I’ve been sleeping from nine o’clock in the evening until about ten o’clock in the morning. I sleep for about thirteen hours, yet everything has stayed the same. Phil always asks me if I’m OK, if there’s some sort of problem , if I’m feeling ill. I never answer him truthfully, because I’ve just gotten myself in a spiral of lies that just keeps on spiralling. I always answer yes I’m OK, no there isn’t any problem, I’m not ill. Really, the answers are no Phil I’m not OK, there is a problem, and I’m love sick. I’m even calling it some sort of illness now. Great.

About once a week Phil stays at home, these moments I attempt to treasure. By attempt I mean try not to make anything obvious so Phil doesn’t suspect anything, that’s harder than it sounds. Whenever his ebony fringe needs adjusting, I want to do it for him. When I talk to him, my heart beats ten times faster, as if it’s about to just burst out of my chest. When I look into his bright blue eyes, I just get lost in them. This is why it’s such a problem to treasure every moment, I just act really awkwardly and Phil always asks the same questions.

It’s four in the afternoon; Phil went to meet Hayley a couple of hours ago. He told me he won’t be back until about six or seven. I’ve just been sat in my room, writing in the journal I started just after Phil went to meet Hayley for the first time. I’ve filled with entries expressing my heart ache, poems showing all my problems and feelings that I can’t find any other way to express. There’s the poem I’m finishing writing now. It has no title.

Love.

Sometimes called a blessing,

A miracle from above,

For me it’s just depressing,

But my pain isn’t enough,

It’s like a poisonous flower,

Beautiful yet deadly,

People say love is power,

They’re just trying to make it sound friendly,

It’s like a roaring fire,

Gorgeous yet pain it transmits...

I pause for a moment, trying to come up with the perfect way to conclude this poem.

Love is nothing but a curse,

No matter how many times you fall in it,

You only end up hurt .

I lay down my pen and re-read the poem I just wrote. It almost perfectly describes what love is, well to me anyway. People say that if you write something down, it gets better. It doesn’t. Poems express my pain, yet do nothing to ease it. Maybe if I write something else it will help. That’s what I always say, hoping that there is truth behind my words. I pick up my pen again and just start doodling. Llamas, sonic, lyrics to songs I like. After a few minutes I put down my pen again and look to see what random doodles I have created. Almost the entire page is smudged. Confused, I look at my hand to see it is covered in ink. Why is it that life discriminates against left handed people?

“For fucks sake…” I mutter under my breath as I got up and went to the bathroom.

I opened the door of the bathroom and turned on the light, closing the door behind me. I walked over to the sink, started running the hot water and began washing the ink off my hand.

“I swear, for some reason God hates me…” I said to myself. “I think we are past when I accidently burnt that bible, it must be something else. Let’s see…” As much as I try to think of what I could have done, I can’t. Even with my clumsiness and constant procrastination, nothing springs into mind.

Then I started daydreaming. I don’t know how long for, but then something caught my eye. The door to the medicine cabinet was open very slightly. The light seemed to be reflecting off of something. I turned off the tap then opened the medicine cabinet door. What had caught my eye was a single razor blade that must have fallen out of the open packet next to it. I stared, entranced by it. My brain began going through some sort of thought process. Could this be a possible solution? I reached for the razor blade then snatched my hand back and stared at it. No, it can’t be. There must be another way. I tried to think of this other way, but couldn’t. I looked back up at the lone razor blade. At this point in time I’m running out of options and a possible solution. I reach out for the blade and hold it in the palm of my right hand. I stare at it, maybe it could help…

I shook my head. No. I won’t unless I have exhausted all other options. There will be another, better solution to my problem. Right now this isn’t it. I don’t put the blade back though. With it still in my hand, I walked out of the bathroom and back to my room. Sitting down on my bed, I grab my notebook and place the razor blade inside it and close it.

Just in case, I thought to myself. I’ll never need it though, I will find another solution.

Present day

I look down into the waters below, my reflection looking back up at me. I remember when I said I’d never need it, that I would find another solution. Soon after I thought I had found a solution, but I was so wrong.

And when I said I would never need the blade, I subconsciously grab my right arm, it was just another lie…