I do not own Danny Phantom.

Sorry I'm so depressed and insane right now.

It's better than thinking of murder.

Life.

That word made me laugh harshly.

What was life?

I don't know any more.

In fact, I don't know anything any more. I don't know when my lies will stop, I don't know if I'll ever turn evil, I don't know if I like Sam or not, I don't know if my parents trust me, I don't know if there are any more ghosts wanting to kill me out there, I don't even know if I want to live this life anymore!

I can't exactly rip it out of me; I've seen what it does.

How bad it can be to have my humanity out of me.

It can twist me.

Turn me evil.

I can't reverse it. I'm too used to it. And what if something really bad happens that involves me needing to use my ghost powers and I can't do it because I don't have them any more? What's the point in that?

I can't split it in half. I don't want to be Fun Danny or Super Danny, and then have Super Danny merge with Fun Danny and make Fun Danny, Super Danny.

I can't wish it away.

Because eventually it will come back, because of Sam. Possibly. Maybe.

So with all those ideas in my head, I can't do any of them because of what may or may not happen afterwards.

My parents keep telling me to enjoy life while I have it.

Am I enjoying it?

Fuck no.

It's making me want to die on the inside. Every single day, fighting the same ghost every single time, getting hurt by the same people who hunt me, getting hurt or getting broken bones by the enemies I fight, getting my friends put in danger just for them helping me.

It makes me wonder if I even deserve to live.

A lot.

All the time.

Every single second of the day.

I bet people have noticed, not many besides Sam, Jazz and Tucker talk to me anymore. Heck, not even Dash has been trying to beat me up.

They take one peak at the dead look in my eyes and leave me alone for the rest of my life. Some question me, the same every time. 'What's wrong?' or 'Are you okay?' or 'Do you want to talk?' or my personal favorite 'You shouldn't keep things bottled up, talk to me.'

This, ghost hunting, it's killing me on the inside. That's what I want to say to them.

But I never do.

I don't speak.

I don't show any emotions.

It makes me wonder if there is any life in me.

But right now, it doesn't matter.

Feeling the cool metal pressed against my head, that's making me feel this instant. Feeling the rush, feeling the anticipation, feeling happy….

A click.

A small smile crawled onto my face, the first one since months. I'm a few moments away from death, and yet here I am thinking about my crappy life. I snorted, how ironic is that? It isn't life flashing before my eyes….but it's something.

Footsteps downstairs.

I bit my lip; crap I couldn't do it when someone was home, or when someone was visiting….

I let out a bitter laugh and decided I didn't care.

Knocking at my door.

"Danny are you alright?"

Of course it had to be Sam.

My finger started squeezing the trigger.

"Danny?" jiggling at the doorknob. Crap, I left it unlocked. Oh well, might as well let her see me leave this world….

The door opened slightly and I heard her gasp.

I smiled at her-not a sad one, a happy one- and pulled the trigger, leaving my life behind.

Sorry again.