For clarity, as mentioned in the summary, this is a Pitch Pearl story written in diary with lemons. If that's not your preference, feel free to skip it. If you don't like the ship, just don't read it. It's that simple! (:

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AU — OOC (a little)

TW: This story touches on sensitive topics, including mental health struggles—such as depression—and intimate content (explicit removed). Also strong Language, as always.

Please read with care.

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~ Fenton's First Diary ~

This diary belongs to:

Danny Fenton

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••• Sunday, August 18th, 20XX •••

Alright… where do I even begin? I've been feeling this deep, haunting nostalgia creeping in, like something's pulling me back. I've never written a diary before—guess there's a first time for everything, huh?

Let's just get one thing out of the way: NO, I AM NOT OKAY.

Why? Because every damn corner of my life feels haunted by trauma—twisted up in my past, and now it clings to me like a shadow I can't shake.

How did it get to this point? Why did it have to be me that went through all of this?

It all started three years ago. That portal accident. Fuck, it feels like it was just yesterday, like I'm still trapped in that moment.

And now… there's something wrong with me. Not just physically but inside, deep where I can't reach. I've been burying all of this for so long, but I can't do it anymore. I'm so… tired.

Don't get me wrong. I don't want to die. I'm already half-dead as it is. But maybe if I just… vanished. Maybe if I just left this life behind. I don't know. Everything is too much.

I think… I need help. I thought I was okay, that I was fine, that I was strong enough to keep going, but it was just a lie, a mask, just to protect everyone else.

That accident—that's where everything shattered.

You could laugh about it, sure… but this is anything but funny.

I feel… wrecked, like I'm slipping beneath the ground. The only thing I'm clinging to is… honestly, I don't even know. Maybe the people who say they care, who claim they love me.

But… do they really love me? Or is that just another lie?

I've been bottling everything up, shoving it all down. Maybe that was my biggest mistake, my fault. Everything feels wrong. I feel wrong.

There are days I can't even handle myself. How could I ever expect anyone else to? Especially my parents, who still don't know the truth… about Phantom, the other side of me.

What even made me into this person? Sometimes, it feels like my whole life is just one massive lie.

The only thing that gives me peace is flying—soaring above the clouds, looking up at the stars as they flicker in the dark.

I just want to be alone. I want time for myself, far away from everything and everyone.

Is that selfish?

Maybe not. They always said you have to put yourself first, that you can't really love anyone else until you do.

I did love myself, and maybe I still do.

I miss her. And I don't even know why. She was the one who kept me grounded, reined me in from my own recklessness. But then she was gone, and this hollow space opened up inside me—one I couldn't fill, no matter what I tried. So, I tried filling it by becoming someone else, by being flirtatious, charming… with my alter ego again, Phantom. And for a while, it worked. It numbed the ache.

But now? Now I'm back in that darkness, those shadowed days.

Sometimes I wonder—what did I do to deserve this? Why am I like this? Every time I think I have a grip on life, it just slips through my fingers.

I've even started losing weight; I barely eat anymore—there's just no time, or maybe I'm making excuses. I don't know.

I'm not even sure I'm capable of being the hero everyone expects anymore… and it kills me to admit that, which sucks.

It's like I'm frozen at that age—the age when everything went wrong. Like I can't move forward, can't grow up.

Maybe I never will. And honestly… what's so great about growing up anyway, right?

I want to cry. I want to scream.

But I can't. I'm not allowed.

Because that would make me weak and vulnerable.

I hope maybe there's some comfort in writing this all down, even though I've never been good at spilling my thoughts. But right now, it's all I have left.

Since the accident, I hear voices everywhere—probably just in my head. They're the loudest in the early morning, and then again at night, waiting until I start drifting off, only to jolt me awake. Sometimes, I convince myself it's just my ghost sense acting up… but it never stops.

Why can't I just live a normal life?

When they ask me if I'm okay, I always say I'm fine, that everything's alright. But the truth? I'm far from okay. It's all just that mask.

Maybe I have too much imagination. But that's just… me. I could pour anything out on this paper, but my head's a mess. Chaos. I keep bringing them back to life in my mind—her, him—even when I know it's wrong. But I let them exist anyway, even if it drags me down.

It's like there's always someone there, right behind me, watching, waiting. A shadow I can't shake. I can't ignore them; I have to fight them—the ghosts.

I'm so damn tired of fighting ghosts, tired of this endless haunt. So eventually, I did the thing.

Sometimes, someone asks how I'm doing—me, just Danny. But the ones I expect to see me the most… like my parents? They don't. They don't know, and maybe they never will.

Sam… why? Where were you? How could I forget you? You'll always have a place in my heart, but not in the way you want it.

Phantom… why? Where did you go? I hope you're okay—wherever you are, wherever ghosts like you go.

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