July 27th, 16:11, 2007

A few months ago, you and your family had moved into this large, lavish Parisian apartment building hopes of a better quality life and luxury. At first, your life was perfect. Your bedroom window offered a gorgeous view, all the shops were nearby, and you had a large group of friends. But the best part was your new friend—Pete, a ghost whose corpse was carelessly thrown down under your apartment building in the catacombs, haunting the place after his non-peaceful death hundreds of years ago.

Pete was very, very attached to you. Each morning, he'd appear behind you in the mirror and tell you how handsome you were. Each study session, Pete was there by your desk to share some of his outdated, ancient knowledge. Each midnight, Pete would stand defensively beside your bed, protecting his human. He obviously loved you, and he knew that you knew. It's just that he thought you were straight.

Could you imagine how enraged your phantom friend was once he discovered you were falling in love with a living boy? Pete was fuming. He was disgusted at the concept of you loving another mortal, thinking it should be himself and you together. He was already waiting for your death so you could be together forever. So Pete purposely broke things around your house to stir up family arguments, spread illnesses to your innocent family members until you noticed him.

Today, you'd come home from college to find the whole front room completely trashed. Shattered glass coated the floor like a broken ice rink, ripped fabric was strewn everywhere, and scratches along the wallpaper made the place look like bigfoot had visited. Before you stood a furious Pete, his gaze fixated permanently on you.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were gay?" he asked in a stern, passive-aggressive voice. He sounded like a ticking timebomb, just waiting to explode the moment you said one wrong word.