Just a note:
I have been trying to write fanfiction for a while, but I can never write something that I feel happy with. This is no exception. I don't really care for the story much or anything, but I thought that I should at least post it. I can accept your flames (bring it on).
Danny's grades had been slowly slipping. The B's had long since dropped into D's. Once, he would have cared. Now, he just slipped further into failure.
Danny's friends had been drifting away. Once, they were inseparable. Now, Danny didn't hear a thing they said. No matter what, he just pushed them further and further from him. No one could get through to him anymore. Once he would have cried, seeing how he had hurt his friends. Now his face was a mask of indifference.
Danny's family became nothing to him. His parents could never understand him, just as he could never understand them. Jazz had about as much luck as Sam and Tucker; Danny had opened a rift between them Jazz couldn't close. Once, Danny would have held onto his family with everything he had. Now he let them go.
Danny had once been very sane. Despite every odd thing that went on around him, he was strong 'till the end. Now, he whispered to himself whether in public or not. Shadows hung below his bloodshot eyes, wisps of memory gone from his dull blue irises. His bedroom walls had words etched into them. Danny always had cuts and bruises on his face that ghost hunting couldn't explain.
Danny used to fight ghosts. He had protected his home as Phantom, never letting a single ectoplasmic monster harm his town. Now he would curl up in corners, ignoring the sound of his parents blasting ghosts.
Danny once had been at peace with the world. The people around him knew his secret, and accepted him. Now, he had destroyed their memories of that time. Some people's memories were rooted too deep to destroy, but he tried.
Danny had once been a kid with superpowers, who always knew what was right. Now, his friends watched the shell of him rip itself apart from the inside out.
He had grown tired of the taunting, the bullying, the abuse. Danny wasn't prepared the handle everyone he knew criticizing his every move. And so he had removed himself as effectively as he could. Some little part of him, perhaps the dying echo of a happy Danny, cried out whenever he thought about hurting anyone (even himself). So he would instead draw his thoughts into what could have been, what might be. Sometimes there was a world of a teen Danny, carelessly laughing with his friends while enjoying video games. Another version of himself would crush evil as the entire city cheered him on.
Danny had once been very much alive, bursting with energy even in ghost form. Now nothing remained but the hollow shell full of "could have been"s and "might be"s.
Danny no longer feared his inevitable complete death.