I'm feeling really angsty I'm sorry

I don't own Danny Phantom

The dim lit room of Lancer's first period there sits a 14 year old boy in turmoil. No one can see it; it lays where no one could hope to see, to understand.

The video on Fitzgerald's life plays on the screen, information on his life emitting from the speakers, he doesn't hear a word of it, this worksheet on the video isn't due until tomorrow anyway.

You know they don't really like you. The damnable voice purrs in my head.

Of course they do, they choose to be my friends. I brought them together, remember? I've been friends with Sam since kindergarten just like in a cliche love story and Tucker has been my friend since 4th grade when he moved to the area. Those two never talked to each other until my 11th birthday party.

You think that means anything now? Can't you see it, they want to get away.

You're wrong.

Then why do they hang out without you?

They're allowed to have their own lives.

Even though it means leaving you in the dust, even though you know they only stay around because of the guilt they feel.

What guilt.

Come on. You don't need to be NASA smart for this one.

I told them it isn't there fault.

You really think those meaningless words will stop them from pitying you for what they did to you? News flash, kid. You're Dead because of them.

I'm not dead.

Really? This fight again.

I have a pulse. I'm not dead.

You are half ectoplasm, ectoplasm kills living cells.

I'm not dead, not yet.

So you're just dying.

It's better than being dead.

You're an idiot.

Noted.

It's a shame they fight so well together. Almost as if they don't need the dying kid that's way over his head.

Stop it.

Stop what.

They care about me.

Then why so you sit in that forsaken bathroom at night stitching yourself up when you have more blood lost then kept.

They don't need to see that.

So you just deserve to sit alone and suffer.

I didn't say that. The bell rings, I go to the bathroom, math can wait.

They deserve to be happy while you rot away, keeping everything at bay that could leave more than a bump or bruise. You can't be happy while the get into honor classes and you can't get a C on a English test because you spent the last week hunting down a rampaging ghost?

I didn't-

They hate you.

….What?

They hate what you are. They hate having to see you. They have having to be near you, see you, hear your voice.

You're wrong.

You know I'm not. You can be out fighting for you're afterlife and they will be watching a movie in Sam's super basement happy and carefree.

Because I don't get them involved.

You think they would come if they saw? If they knew you needed help. Face it, they are content to watch you drown in your own blood and tears.

It's not like that.

How long can you deny me, deny the truth.

As long as I have to.

So you admit.

They haven't left me yet. That counts right? I'm shaking, when did that start. I brush my arm against my face, I'm crying too.

I leave the bathroom, instead I sit on the roof. Just me and the open sky. It's sunny today, warm, around may time. School will be letting out soon.

I have friends. My friends like me. They won't leave me.

It's not my fault I am the way I am. I'm not even talking the half dead part.

I'm shy and annoying, not many like me. I've been picked on for most of my school life but I stand up for those who won't stand up for themselves.

It's not my fault I'm like this. My friends like me the way I am.

Even when I can't hang out with them and they hang out with just themselves and then they post pictures of the two of them having fun and I have to make up some excuse of why I'm not with them. Sometimes it's actually true. Like when I'm grounded, I try not to go out except for when it's a ghost fight.

They can't help that this is what I need to do. I can't help that they can be together when I can't.

I can't help if they don't spend time with me.

I can't help that I'm alone.

I can't-

The boy lays crumpled on the concrete. He couldn't survive that fall.

Even if he wanted too.