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It’s utterly frustrating. He’s completely oblivious to all the advances that I’ve been attempting to act out, though they have been miserably failed.
I, Dan Howell, have made no success whatsoever for these past months (possibly years). It’s to the point where I internally get the urge to gouge my eyeballs out of my eye sockets.
Maybe that sounds quite too graphic, but that’s the closest I can describe my constant and painful agony. I would like to confirm that my flatmate has officially driven my mentality insane.
If I could, I would step up to him and say, “Phil, you’ve ruined my life,” but I can’t simply do that without stuttering and melting into the ground of our apartment. When I die, please take my consent on engraving “Died from feelings and Philip Michael Lester” onto my tombstone.
Phil is a great person. Everyone knows that. But living with him? He’s clumsy. Sweet, yet again, clumsy. I could literally write an eight page essay about him. Now that I think about it, I sound like a stalker. Phil will, guaranteed, kill me someday.
--
Am I screaming? No.
Am I panicking? No, not even at the disco.
Here I am, sitting in my room and scrolling through my laptop. It seems so casual, but my mind keeps focusing on the same topic, not paying any attention to the pixels before my eyes. It goes like this:
>Phil
>Phil Lester
>Phil makes videos just like me
>Phil also breathes the same air I do
>There is carbon dioxide in the air
>Carbon dioxide provides for plants
>Plants go through photosynthesis
>Philosynthesis
>AU where Phil becomes a plant
>Phil sprouts (Totally not a reference to the Sprout brothers)
>Plants are basically both genders
>Therefore, Phil-
“Hi Dan, how i-”
“PHIL ARISES FROM THE SOIL.”
I had one job. That was not it.
I blinked.
He blinked back.
Silence.
“Is everything alright?” he rose an eyebrow.
No, everything is not alright.
“Yeah, everything is alright."
Dammit.
His facial expression softened and he chuckled at me.
Kill me now.
“I sure hope so. Especially since you mentioned about me ‘arising from the soil,’” he formed his fingers to look like quotation marks, emphasizing his statement. I held back my shock, thankfully.
He makes it sound like he defied gravity by crawling out of the depths of hell. Sadly, it sounds extremely adorable. I need to see a therapist.