Imagine you're sat in a room; not unlike a padded cell. The only things in there are two chairs, a table, and you. You're waiting for a very special person, the person that means more than the world itself, and he's the only reason why you're still living. Now, think of why I said that. Why wouldn't you want to live? Life's great! Not when you're you.
Today is the day you've been waiting for- the day your soulmate comes to rescue you, his shining armour in place. You are the weakling, the person that needs to be rescued. You are in this prison for one reason, and one reason only. Like everybody else in here, you are weak.
You woke up this morning in your room, and thought of him, like every other day. But unlike yesterday, and the day before, and the day before, you realise that he's coming for you. He'll be there to save you. Save you from this place. This place where everyone is the same, and should be treated like china. There is no music, no books, and no contact- everything you crave.
So you walked out of your room, skipping the breakfast of dry toast and sour milk. You can't wait any longer to see him, the feeling inside you blooming into a desperate need. You feel like if you don't see him, you will die- properly this time.
Now you're sat at the table, jiggling your knees without a rhythm, as you have lost all sense of what made you. You can't remember what music sounds like, you can't remember anything other than this endless torture, this confined space which allows you to do nothing but exist. This is not living; living is enjoying what life has to give you, with the ups and the downs. This is no such thing.
After an uncountable amount of time, the door swings open and your saviour steps in. He really is your knight in shining armour: feathery, ebony hair swooping around his angelic face. A cupids bow mouth, odd-but-adorabley-shaped nose, and eyes. His eyes... The colour is a colour in itself. A warm caribbean turquoise, swirled into icey blue. Perfectly shaped eyebrows frame the wide, glistening eyes of your saviour. He is beautiful.
You want to rush to him, but you know neither of you should move to quickly. Or get too close. That makes you so sad. You have been dying to touch him for what feels like years. You used to be able to say, 'Fuck the rules, I love this man!', but that character has been drained out of you- leaving nothing but a shell. So you wait patiently while he sits across from you in that rickety chair, and then places his hand on the table in front of you. You place your hand in his gingerly, as if it would burn you. When your fingers touch, a bolt of energy flashes through you, leaving you stunned- but it drives you to clasp both hands around his. You remember the last time you touch him; the memories come flooding past the barriers now but you fight to keep them back.
"Dan... How, are you?" He says. The most mundane question, yet it means so much to you. No one has asked that in so long, of course he would be the first. You look down, one side of your mouth quirked up sadly.
"I... I'm o-okay. I miss you." You want to say more, but it feels so weird talking to someone after so long. He can tell you want to tell him more though.
"Go on, tell me... about how you're doing. Please." That final word breaks down the flood-gates, letting the words flow out.
"I hate it here. I don't even know what it feels like to hate anymore, but I remember thinking I hated it when I first arrived, and that feeling hasn't changed. There's nothing to do, so I just sit in my room and think. I can't remember what music sounds like, what it's like to talk to someone, you. I think of you the most. The most favourite person in my existence. Because Phil, this is not life. You know what it is to live. I just don't know anymore. I miss music, I miss reading, I miss talking, but most of all, I miss you. I miss you so, so much. I miss you so much, it doesn't even hurt anymore when I do think of you- it just hurts all the time. Every day, I get up, I go have breakfast. Then I go to my room, and think. Sometimes of you, but that hurts too much. So I think of what life was like before I got put in here. That doesn't hurt as much."
By the end of your rant, Phil is looking at you like he's going to cry. This makes you feel like you will cry too, because seeing Gee sad is the worst thing that could ever happen.
"But now you're here, I'm okay! You'll get me out and we can be together again!" Then he smiles sadly, but looks down.
"But Danny... Do you not remember how you got in here?"
He clasps his other hand around ours and squeezes.
"Danny... You're in here forever. You killed a man- our friend, PJ. You slit his throat in his sleep, because you said he was with me more than you were. You said you were jealous."
"I... I did that?" He nods and smiles a grim smile. "But, I don't remember that."
"Yeah, you blocked it out. You said you thought I would hate you- but I don't!" He can see your face, set in a pain-filled mask. You cannot believe you killed a man, your friend no less! "Dan, I forgive you. In fact, there never was anything to forgive. Dan, you're my one and only. I would be nothing if you had never come into my life. If anyone ever took you away from me, I'd kill them too. You see, the only reason why I haven't burnt this place down to get you is... well, you're safer in here. When you were out there, you... well, you were always so angry. Furious at times. Danny, it scared me. I thought one day, something really bad would happen- and it did. You seem to be doing better in here."
The sad thing is, is that you can't even remember what you were like before. All you remember were feelings of jealousy, and happiness from when you were with Phil- which was almost all the time.
"... So, I'm not going home with you?"
"Well no. I'm sorry Danny, but you are doing much better here. Yes, you don't like it, but you'd hate it out there again. Once, you told me you wished life wasn't so hard. And I said that's what life is about- the highs and lows. Then you said you didn't want to deal with it anymore. The next day... well, you know, PJ."
You feel yourself withdrawing from the person you love. He doesn't want you any more. He thinks you should stay in your personal hell rather than go out into a world you don't even remember. He does not understand you. He is not your soulmate anymore. Your Philly, is yours no longer.
"Okay then. I'll stay here forever, it doesn't matter." His eyes flick back to yours, filled with guilt.
"I don't mean it like that, it's just... You're doing so much better. And you do seem better than you did before... Maybe it's easier if we just, go separate ways. That way we can both get on with our lives."
You just stare at him; your angel, the one who promised he'd stay with you forever, breaking the one promise that actually meant something. No words come to your aid, so you just sit, stunned, while he looks at you with hopeful yet downcast eyes. No, he's not yours anymore.
Phil soon escapes the tension-filled room, saying his final goodbye to you, his old lover, not knowing of the painful torment in which twists and turns within you. You go back to your room, the place in which you have spent many tortured nights. The bed you lie back on has heard all your cries. All your pleas for him, when in fact, he was a lost cause. The last person that loved you, gone. Now there's no one for you, just the walls.
So you decide that since your only reason for living has disappeared, you figure there's no way you can go on. You grab and twist your bedsheets into a long rope and begin to wind it around your throat. There's nothing left for you now, nothing or no one that wants you. Nobody cares. Nobody cares about what happens to you; maybe your nurse will, because she'll get moved to a different unit. She'll probably be happy, she hates you anyway.
So you think of the times when Phil was yours. When you would spend long nights cuddling on the sofa, playing video games and writing down ideas for videos. Talking about when you'd adopt a child; a baby girl, because he always wanted a daughter. You think of the sound of his laugh, the wonderfully geeky giggle that he hates but you think is adorable. The look in his eyes when he saw you after a whole day away from each other.
When your vision goes sparkly, and your head starts to feel fuzzy, you think about how alone you are now. Then you come to the conclusion that you're okay alone. Maybe you could survive on your own. But you don't want to be alone. You want Phil, your angel, your knight in shining armor, your savior. However, he wasn't any of those. Phil let you down, or maybe you just put him on a too-high pedestal.
Then, just as your mind goes black, you have one more thought. A thought that sums up your life in just four simple words: The World Is Ugly.