house of memories | phan

1. in the swirling of the storm when i'm rolling with the punches

It starts with a silent wish into the quiet night air. Closed eyes, crossed fingers, heart thrumming like a live wire behind my ribcage. I understand, now, why hearts and lungs are trapped behind a cage of bones; it's because hearts and lungs are like wild animals and they can be violent and vicious creatures if they're ever set free.

I snap my dark eyes open to gaze at the dark sky and glimmering stars with my fingers smudging the glass of my bedroom window and my breath creating clouds of fog. I've never felt so lonely, so devoid of colour and hope in my entire life. It's midnight and I should be asleep, but I'm not. Instead, I'm staring at the night skyline of Berkshire with blurry eyes and a heavy empty weight in my chest.

I go to a big school in the city. It's an all-boys school full of dickheads that love making my life miserable, and love seeing me crumble. Sure, I have a few friends that I sit with during lunch and tag around with in the school corridors but the worst feeling in the world is knowing that you're the least significant friend in your group and if you disappeared nothing would really change. The earth would still revolve, the stars would still glow, the cars would still thunder down the streets at dawn. I'm just there; breathing, seeing, walking but I'm not important. I'm just a minor character that could be wiped away and no one would give a fuck.

I remove my fingertips from the cold glass and sigh. Though I'm a very cynical person that definitely doesn't believe in ghosts and spirits and all that afterlife shit, I do believe in wishes. I believe in 11:11 and dandelions and the shooting stars that are usually just planes. And I always wish for the same thing every single night.

I always wish for a friend.

I wish for someone to actually see me and notice me, and make my life mean something. For someone to wake up in the morning and think about me first thing, and for someone to hold my hand and smile and tell me that I'm maybe not as hopeless as I think I am. For someone to just be there.

It never comes true though and everyday is always the same. I breathe through each day in a sea of a thousand people and feel like he loneliest person on the planet.

I stand up and push myself away from the window, suddenly feeling cold, and tread back to my bed in my bare toes. There is no point in staying awake into the early hours of the morning. Nothing is going to change there, either.

I rest my head down on the pillow and softly close my eyes. Tomorrow will be different, I tell myself. I promise.

I don't believe a single word I say.

+++

"Come out, Dan. We all know you're in there," I hear a voice say, and I can hear him grinning. I hear a couple of sniggers and my heart sinks. "Come out!" and I hear them use some gay slurs.

I cover my face with my hands. Everything happened so fast that I don't even know how I got here. A few moments ago I was eating my lunch in the cafeteria, and then I was being chased down the corridors by a group of six boys, and then I ran straight for the bathroom and locked myself in the first cubicle. And now they're standing outside the cubicle trying to make me come out so they can beat me up and break my face.

Idiot, I scold myself. Now I'm trapped.

Someone kicks the door and I gasp. More laughter. I really need to get out of here.

"Dan Howell," the same voice snarls from behind the door and I stand up on top of the toilet seat and consider escaping through the window. It's a thin sliver of a window, but I could —

"You better open this door right now or else I'm going to kick it down and fucking murk you, alright?"

I close my eyes and breathe. My heart is racing and I feel like screaming, but I need to remain calm. I need to breathe.