Dear Harry,
You’ve been gone for
two weeks now. I haven’t been coping well. The boys have even sent me to
a therapist to help me forget. But I can’t forget. You’re all I ever
think about. Your head of luscious curls, the way your smile lights up a
room, your green eyes that I love so much. You’re impossible to forget.
I don’t want to forget.
Of course the boys are worried about me. I’m
even worried about me. My therapist is worried as well, and that’s why
she has handed me this journal, so I can write down my innermost
thoughts. I’m supposed to give it to her every week to read over, and I
just feel so weird giving it to her. Most of my thoughts revolve around
you, so I guess that’s why she wants to read it over, to make sure I’m
handling everything well.
But to be honest I’m not, and yes I’m
fairly aware she will read this. But the truth has got to come out
sooner or later, yeah? She never specifically told me what to write, but
just that I have to write. So I’m writing to you. I hope you don’t
mind. I want you to know how I’ve coped with the whole thing.
I’m
going to tell you how it’s been without you here with me. How I feel all
day every day will be written down in here. Starting from day one, aka,
the day you left this world.
Day One:
I woke up like I did every
morning, expecting to find you curled up by my side. But when I turned
over, the bed was empty, and you were nowhere to be spotted. At first I
brushed it off, telling myself that you were just cooking breakfast or
showering. But the lack of noise throughout the apartment should have
deterred me, and I apologize that I didn’t pay any mind to it. I should
have known. I should have stopped you.
When I finally rose from bed,
the silence in the house unnerved me, and that’s when the nerves began
to kick in. I felt light-headed walking through the flat in my search
for you, my knees growing weaker with every step I took.
I guess you
could say I finally fell to my knees the moment I found you. I cried. A
lot actually. My eyes stung with poisonous tears and my heart pumped
with venom at the sight of you. But I don’t blame you, I never have. I
blame myself.
I will never be able to un-live that day, or erase the
image of your cold unmoving body lying still on the floor. It haunts me
every day, and every night.
I did the only thing I knew how to do,
and I called the ambulance. They were in the flat within minutes,
carrying you away from me. I was unable to move, as well as Niall and
Zayn, who I had called along with Liam right after the ambulance. It was
Liam who drove us all behind the ambulance, while I silently cried to
myself in the back seat.
I didn’t want to believe it.
Day Two:
Your
family was there. We were all there. I hugged your mother, trying to
comfort her while she cried her eyes out, all the while trying to
contain my own tears. The rest of the boys took care of Gemma, who began
screaming and thrashing, refusing to believe that her brother had left
her. Tears were flying all over the place, and it became hard to defer
whose tears belong to whom, but it didn’t really matter.
We all
watched from the sidelines as you were removed from your bed, and
carried away on a long stretcher, a thin white sheet covering you, so I
was unable to see your face one last time.
I refused to believe you were gone. I still refuse.
You’re
coming back, aren’t you? I hope you do. Everybody’s pretty fucked up
about it. I miss the way things used to be, you know? Now anyone hardly
ever smiles. I miss your smile.
Day Three:
Silent. That’s the only
word I can use to describe that day. In fact, any day beyond the second
has just fallen silent. There were no words to say then, and there
still isn’t any.
The boys and I sat stiffly on Liam’s couch, tears
slipping down our faces as we realized, we weren’t One Direction
anymore. There was no One Direction without you, and there still isn’t.
So that day was wasted on our own pitiful thoughts, and wondering what we would do now that you were gone.
Day Four:
I
found your note that day. The familiar sight of your handwriting drove
me to tears. I couldn’t find myself to share it with anyone.
Anne
visited me that day. I think it was Wednesday, but I really didn’t know.
I couldn’t find myself to care. Usually we would be at rehearsals, but
the news had already been leaked to the press, and spread all over
Twitter. I refused to go online, or watch TV. The only things that
played were predictions on why you had done it, but I knew why, so I
didn’t want to hear about others theories.
Our fans miss you. I’ve
had multiple come up to me while I was walking the streets, crying their
eyes out and hugging me, apologizing for my loss. They say that you
were amazing, and an amazing person, that you didn’t deserve to go so
young. I agree with them.
Why did you leave? Well, I know why. But I just can’t wrap my head around it.
I
ended up showing your mother the note. I know you meant it to reach my
eyes, and my eyes only, but I felt she had a right to know. She cried,
Haz. She cried a lot. I feel as though I’m the one to blame for all of
this, and the weight on my shoulders just keeps growing.
Day Five:
We
finally began arranging your funeral that day. I don’t know if it was a
bit too early to arrange or a bit too late, but all I know is that
nobody wanted to do it. Nobody wanted to accept the fact that you were
really gone.
Day Six:
I showed the boys the note that day. Well, I
didn’t exactly show them. I left it on the kitchen counter, and Zayn
had come across it. He walked into the living room with tears streaming
down his face, and began to shout at me.
He yelled at me for not telling them. He yelled at me for being selfish. And he blamed it all on me.
Niall and Liam tried to calm him down. But I didn’t blame him for being angry. I was angry at myself as well.
Day Seven:
A
week without you in my life, feels like an eternity, and I spent the
entire day watching old X Factor videos and interviews of us, pretending
you were there with me, laughing along.
Day Eight-Twelve:
I
decided to write these days into one big entry because well, not much
happened in those days. Zayn still refused to speak to me, and I didn’t
blame him. Niall and Liam tried their best to talk to me, but I had
become distant. I spoke to no one, except for you of course. But you
weren’t really there, and that began to worry them.
Day Thirteen:
I
probably should have said in the last entry that by day nine we had
finished arranging your funeral. Four days later and there I was,
standing cloaked in black over a deep hole in the ground, where you
would be forced to remain underneath for eternity.
It wasn’t open
casket. We all knew how much you loathed other people seeing you when
you weren’t decent. Everyone agreed that it was probably best, and to be
honest, I didn’t want to look at your face knowing your eyes would no
longer flutter open, and I would no longer be able to look into your
green orbs.
I cried again that day. Heck, I cried every day since the
day you left. But that day was much worse. When they were placing you
inside the hole, I almost ran over to stop them, and it took Liam, Zayn,
and Niall to hold me back. I had dropped to my knees crying my eyes
out. I wasn’t able to stand strong at your funeral, and I am so sorry.
You
must be disappointed in me. I know you’ve always thought of me as
strong. But that’s only when I’m with you. Now that you’re gone, I don’t
know what to do with myself.
It was a long service, and I embraced
every single member of your family, apologizing and muttering incoherent
words throughout all of my blubbering. Gemma and Anne held me the
longest, and we sobbed into each other’s shoulders. I pulled away from
Gemma, and stared at her a long while. I told her that the two of you
looked a lot alike. She’s so beautiful Harry, and I promise to take care
of her.
I promise to take care of your mother too. She had always
been like a second mother to me anyways. When I hugged her, he whispered
something in my ear that I will never forget, and I really hope she
wasn’t lying to me.
“He loved you, you know.” She whispered, and
pulled back with a small smile on her face. She walked away before I had
a chance to reply, leaving me speechless, before I broke down sobbing
again. Liam had to carry me out to the car, and I resisted. I didn’t
want to leave you.
Day Fourteen:
I’d just like to say that I
wasn’t willing to go to therapy. But the boys insisted that I go. I
went, but I didn’t like it. The therapist poked and prodded me for
information, asking me about how I felt and what my thoughts were. I
didn’t like the invasion of privacy. My thoughts were meant to stay
hidden, not to end up in here.
But now here I am, writing to you.
I
can sometimes feel you, you know. It’s like you’re watching me. Instead
of being scary, like I imagined it would be, it’s actually quite
comforting.
Day Fifteen:
And now here I am, present day. Today, I
feel… empty. But I guess that’s just what comes with losing the person
you love, right? Sarah read over my journal last night—did I forget to
tell you my therapists name is Sarah? Oh well, it is.
She seemed
disappointed in me, but I couldn’t find myself to care. She told me to
stop writing these entries, but I told her that it was actually helping
me. In a way it is. I feel as if you’re here with me, reading everything
I jot down on this page.
Right then, back to today. I didn’t do much
to be quite honest. Niall came over, and we watched a couple movies to
try and return back to the old days. Liam called me just to check up.
Still no word from Zayn though, and I’m starting to worry our friendship
will never patch up.
Day Sixteen:
People are saying that One
Direction is over, and it’s really tearing me up inside. It’s only been a
little over two weeks and already people are starting to talk. The boys
and I are trying to get back to work, but it’s just too soon. We don’t
think we can handle going up on stage or to the studio quite yet,
knowing that we’re down a member, who isn’t coming back.
It’s not as
if we’ve denied the rumors. In fact, I wouldn’t even consider us One
Direction anymore either. With just the four of us it’s just Louis
Tomlinson, Niall Horan, Liam Payne, and Zayn Malik. You came up with the
name Haz, so without you here it just feels wrong to call ourselves
that.
I know you probably would want us to move on, and keep going with our career as a band. But it’s just so HARD.
Why can’t you just come back?
Day Seventeen-Twenty:
I’m
sorry I forgot to write an entry the past few days. To be honest, I
haven’t even left my bed. I’m just so TIRED. I guess you would
understand, since you’re asleep for an eternity now. Was that rude to
say? I don’t know. I don’t know what happens after you pass, but some
have said it’s just a world of black you’re surrounded in. God, I sure
hope you’re not sitting in blackness Harry, you deserve to sing with the
angels.
I bet you’d sound pretty good harmonizing with them, I’ve
always thought you had a voice like the angels. Maybe you could be my
guardian angel and sing me to sleep sometime, okay?
Anyways, back to
the previous days. As I said, I’ve just been so tired. I haven’t left my
bed. All I have to accompany me is my laptop, which I don’t mind. There
are tons to do online. But I try my best to avoid any social networking
sites. I’m just not ready to face the real world quite yet.
Niall
has stopped by quite a bit. I think he’s the most worried about me out
of everyone. I used to be the one who always smiled, and always
brightened everyone else’s day. Now that I’m no longer that person,
Niall tries to be there. He tries to make me smile, and I appreciate the
effort.
I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to smile again.
Day Twenty-One & Twenty-Two:
Liam
stayed over the past two nights. He’s sleeping on the couch next to me
now. It feels good to have somebody staying in the flat with me. When
it’s just me, it feels so big and empty. I think I may have one of the
boys sleep over more often. If that’s okay with you?
I just don’t want to feel alone anymore.
Zayn
finally called me today. He apologized for blowing up on me. I was just
glad to finally hear his voice directed towards me. I of course
apologized for hiding the note. He stated that he totally understood my
reasoning behind it. I think we may finally be heading towards peace.
Oh,
I broke up with Eleanor a while ago. In case you wanted to know. The
day I found you, actually. I just haven’t had the courage to write it
down until now.
You should have just held on for one more day. Then you’d still be here with me. We could finally be happy.
Day Twenty-Three:
Therapy
is absolute torture. I’m not getting any better. Sarah keeps telling me
to give it up, and stop writing these entries because they’re not
helping me. But I can’t stop. If I stop, I’ll feel as if I’m betraying
you.
I can’t let you down again.
Day Twenty-Four:
Sarah asked
me about the note today. I don’t know why she’s kept quiet for so long.
When she asked I just couldn’t hold in the tears, but I reluctantly
handed her the crumpled up piece of paper. Is it weird that I carry it
around with me? It’s like a fire burning a hole in my pocket, reminding
me of the pain everywhere I go, but I just can’t let it go. It’s one of
the last remaining things I have of you.
Day Twenty-Five:
It’s
been a while since I sang. But I sang today. We all did. It was our
first day back at the studio, and let me just say that it sounds so
different without your rocky voice mixed in with ours. We’ve had to
change all of the songs. Niall and I have gotten most of your solos, but
I just don’t feel right taking your parts.
I’ll never be able to
sing them as well as you. Your voice was one in a million I swear.
Whenever you sang the whole world just became a blur in my eyes, and all
I could see was you. I’ve asked for a CD of all of our old recordings,
but I know they won’t give it to me. Liam overheard me asking, so I know
he told them not to.
But I still have YouTube available to me. Bless
the internet. I’ve been listening to your voice all night, ranging from
the X Factor performances up to our album. I’ll never get tired of
hearing your voice, and it seems as though this is the only way I’ll be
able to hear it anymore.
Day Twenty-Six:
I visited Cheshire today.
I walked the streets for a long while, just inhaling the places you
once walked into my senses, imagining that you were there with me,
holding my hand.
After roaming the city, I reluctantly agreed with
myself to visit your old home. When I arrived at the door, Anne welcomed
me in with wide open arms, along with Gemma, who I struggled to pry off
of me. I swear your sister has the upper body strength of a chimp.
We
talked over tea, and I asked her how she was doing. They’re holding up
the best they can Harry, but it’s hard for all of us. Don’t feel guilty
though, they’ll pull through. It’s just me that I’m not so sure about.
I’m the one who should be feeling guilty, and when I told her this, she
refused to listen to me speak like that and that if I were going to put
all of the blame on myself than I should leave.
I walked right out the door.
I
don’t think she had expected me to leave, because I heard her calling
my name through the front door, but I ignored her as I raced to my car.
I
was crying so hard that I had to pull over on the highway, receiving
blaring horns and cold stares as people passed by. But I didn’t see or
hear any of it. All I could see was you. I could hear your voice talking
to me, and that was enough to calm me down so I could drive the rest of
the way home.
Day Twenty-Seven:
Today I spent the entire day in
bed. I ignored every call and every text. Niall, Zayn, and Liam all came
by at one point, pounding on my bedroom door telling me to open up and
just talk to them. I began to feel guilty once again, putting them
through so much pain. I just wish that the pain would stop.
Day Twenty-Eight:
When
I emerged from my room this morning, I found Niall sleeping beside my
doorway. He looked so tired and hopeless that I began to cry. I had done
that to him. I had sucked the life from every single one of them. All
because I was being selfish.
My crying then woke him up, and he
gathered me into his arms. Niall gives great hugs, as you know, so I
clutched onto him for a long time, not once hearing a complaint from
him, or feeling him pull away. He cried along with me, and at that
moment I felt closer to Niall than I ever had. I regret not giving him
more attention before.
Day Twenty-Nine:
Tomorrow will be a whole
month. An entire month since you’ve been gone and I find it hard to wrap
my head around. It feels as though it was just yesterday you were full
of life and laughing so hard you did that silly little clapping thing
with your hands.
This is real, isn’t it?
Day Thirty:
Today the
boys and I spent a day of silence in your honor, refusing to answer any
calls or text, or even just talk to each other. It was pure silence. It
wasn’t an uncomfortable one though; it actually felt a little nice. We
lounged around yours and mine flat today, putting in your favorite
movies to watch throughout the day. We all sat huddled together,
grasping onto each other as we cried our eyes out. Sniffles echoed
throughout the room and tissues were crumpled into piles surrounding us.
We were a sorry sight to see.
But needless to say, that was the closest I had felt with them in a while.
Day Thirty-One:
I
guess that up until now, I have had this thought in my mind that you
were coming back, and that this was all one huge terrible nightmare I
was having. I could wake up at any moment and you would be lying next to
me, smiling like you did every morning.
But I’m starting to realize that you’re not going to come back.
Today
I didn’t even know what to do with myself. I think the boys knew that I
would want to be alone, so I wasn’t bothered with texts or phone calls,
and nobody stopped by our flat to see if I was alright. I appreciated
it, though it’s probably because they were mourning on their own as
well.
I spent the entire day sitting in your favorite chair, staring
blankly at the television as I drank the pain away. Three or maybe four
beers max, and I was dropped on the floor and crying my eyes out. The
pain of reality just sort of… hit me.
Day Thirty-Two:
I felt the
rush today. It felt nice, and I watched in awe as the blood oozed out of
my hand, the glass shards of the bedroom mirror shattered at my toes. I
don’t know what had snapped in me, but I just couldn’t bear to look at
my reflection any longer. So I punched it, harder than I have ever
punched anything in my life.
The pains of the cuts were only
temporary, and I soon felt a wave of ecstasy come over me. I liked the
feel of controlling my own pain, instead of it being planted on me for
once.
I was in the middle of dabbing the cuts clean when Liam walked
in, saying he had heard a crash when suddenly he stopped, and stared at
my hand. He stared at my hand and then the shattered mirror and then my
face. I think it came off as a bit odd that I was smiling, but he
immediately dragged me out of the bedroom, forcing me into his car and
driving me off to the hospital.
Day Thirty-Three:
There’s a
bandage around my hand now, and I don’t like it. I want to be able to
see the scars, and trace my fingers along the creases I had made. To me
they are beautiful, a wonderful symbol of my struggle of moving on from
the past. But the boys just don’t understand.
They’ve been watching me nonstop, not allowing me to do anything myself or go anywhere myself. I’m becoming suffocated.
Day Thirty-Four:
I’m
so hungry, but I can’t bear the thought of food. They try to make me
eat, but it just won’t stay down. I’ve lost weight. A lot of it.
Everyone’s noticed, and it’s hard to hide.
I also fainted today in
the studio, and now people are becoming a bit worried. I’m fine though. I
really truly am fine. I’m just not hungry.
Day Thirty-Five:
The
boys and management haven’t allowed me to leave their sight within the
last twenty-four hours, making sure I eat everything that’s on my plate
and keep it down. It hurts my stomach and I don’t know how much longer I
can take the pure torture of eating food. It tastes so bland and though
my stomach rumbles for more I just can’t bear more than a mouthful.
Day Thirty-Six:
I’m
not allowed to leave my apartment now, until I gain more weight.
Management doesn’t want the press to gain any sight of my newly thin
body, and create rumors which we all know are true. I’m not handling it
well, and I think it’s become quite obvious by now.
The boys keep
apologizing, saying that they should have paid more attention to my
state the first month, and should have been there for me in my time of
need. I told them I understood though, because they had to grieve as
well.
I don’t need any babysitters. But it looks like I’m stuck with them from now on.
Day Thirty-Seven:
The
itch to relieve my pain is growing stronger now than ever. The
involuntary twitch in my hand to punch something made of glass is almost
constant.
It’s impossible to give in to the craving though, when you
have three pairs of eyes watching you at all times. The boys haven’t
left my apartment for two days, and I have a feeling they’re not going
to leave anytime soon.
Day Thirty-Eight:
The boys are forcing me
to return back to therapy since they found out that I had been skipping
sessions and ignoring Sarah’s calls. They say that it’s the best thing
for me, and that I need help.
So here I am, writing this in the all
too crowded office with Sarah staring intently at me. I can feel her
eyes boring into me, and I’m almost afraid to look up.
She has been
scolding me for the past hour, and when she finally stopped she told me
to write, since I was refusing to stop. She thinks that writing these
are bad for my health, because if I talk to you when you’re not really
here, there’s no point in healing, she says.
But I don’t want to leave you behind. I just can’t do that. I love you, and I always will.
Nobody understands.
Day Thirty-Nine & Forty:
Sarah
took my journal last night, so I wasn’t able to write down the day’s
events before she grabbed it. But yesterday was pretty uneventful. I
spent the day with Zayn and Niall, while Liam went to go visit Danielle.
The three of us pretty much just chilled, and spent the whole day in
silence.
They suggested going to the park, but aside from being forced to go to therapy, I just don’t think I can leave the house yet.
Today
Niall found my journal, and when he asked what it was I simply snatched
it out from his hands and hollered at him to leave it be. I know I
should have been gentler… we’re all still in a pretty fragile state. I
should have known that I had gone too far when he left the flat in
tears, and Zayn arrived minutes later, only to scold me on my behavior.
“You
need to grow up Lou, and move on from the past. We’re all torn up about
it, but you don’t have to take your pain or frustration out on everyone
else! You need help, Lou, and we’re trying to help you. But you won’t
let us.” With that I had slammed the door in his face, because I was
through listening to him lecture me on how to live my life.
I’ll let go when I’m ready.
Day Forty-One:
Zayn
won’t talk to me again, and I’m starting to lose interest in being
friends with anyone. People only like to hurt us, like I hurt you.
Day Forty-Two & Forty-Three:
I
woke up with a headache yesterday morning, and I figure that I had just
drunken too much the night before. I can’t remember a thing of what I
did. When I left my room I found Liam reading the newspaper silently on
the couch. When he heard I was awake, he looked up and smiled softly
towards me, patting the spot beside him, beckoning me to come over.
I stayed put where I was, and he only sighed heavily before speaking.
“How are you feeling?” He asked.
I
don’t know if it was the hangover talking, or if I just had forgotten.
But like I said, it still feels so unreal to me. But I regret what I
said next.
“Where’s Harry?”
The tears then came flowing through
Liam’s eyes, and he sat on our couch crying his eyes out. I was going to
ask him what was wrong, when it suddenly hit me. You were gone. I know
that I’ve said it plenty of times before, but I had never believed it
until now.
You’re really gone.
I then felt myself drop to the floor, all control in my body vanishing as I blacked out completely.
Now
here I am, sitting in a hospital bed with wires attached inside me,
pumping chemicals into my bloodstream as if I actually needed them. It’s
not like I’m sick or anything, yet everyone keeps looking at me as if I
am, and that at any moment I could break.
Day Forty-Four:
I saw
my mother today, for the first time in a long time. I hadn’t contacted
her since the funeral, and she had been so worried about me. I woke up
to her crying with her hand to her mouth, as she overlooked my frail,
thinning body.
I told her not to cry, and that I was just fine, which
only made her cry harder. The doctors pushed her out of the room before
she could reply, stating that I needed to rest.
No. I just need you back here with me.
Day Forty-Five:
I
had a dream today, I saw your face. God Harry, I’m beginning to forget
what you look like. Sure, I can look at pictures, but pictures don’t
move, or laugh, or blink. They’re just captured memories. But my
memories are beginning to fade. It may just be the chemicals pouring
through my bloodstream from the various wires attached to me, but
they’re just beginning to fade.
I can’t lose the remaining fragments I have of you.
When
I awoke, I found Zayn sitting beside my bed, tears falling down his
cheeks as he spoke softly to me. He hadn’t even realized I woke, and
kept on speaking. I couldn’t hear him, but it didn’t matter.
Day Forty-Six:
I’m
trying to keep my calm, I really am. This hospital is driving me crazy,
yet they won’t let me leave. I keep insisting that I’m better, but they
only reply that I’m way underweight and under too much stress. Being
locked inside this room is stressing me out; I had never been as
stressed as I am right now.
I’m just bored.
Will you please sing to me?
Day Forty-Seven:
Management
suggested that I take a month long hiatus, and spend that time with my
family and healing. But what they don’t understand is that these wounds
will never heal. It’s not that I don’t want to see my family, I miss
them like crazy.
But if I leave, who will take care of our home?
I
just can’t leave our flat Haz, I can’t. I can’t let them touch it. I’m
afraid that if I leave, they’ll remove every remnant of you, so when I
return there is nothing left of you for me to have.
Day Forty-Eight:
So
I reluctantly agreed to go along with the hiatus, after an hour of my
mom sobbing to me, saying how much she missed me and wanted me home with
her. They think it’s the best thing for me, to get away for a while.
So
this is where I find myself, writing this entry while sitting next to
an empty suitcase. Maybe I should bring your favorite beanie along with
me, so I can fall asleep with you inside my arms—or, at least something
that reminds me of you.
I hope you don’t mind if I borrow it.
Day Forty-Nine:
The
train station is crowded and the noise keeps banging through my ears.
People keep pushing me as Paul guides me along through the mass of
people, while he tries to keep me out of the fans’ view at all times. I
thank Paul for that, because I don’t want the fans to see me like this.
I’m
wearing your old beanie, along with your old worn out sweats that you
used to waltz around the flat in every morning. I’m tiny within the
large sweatshirt that is engulfing my upper body, but I don’t care what I
look like.
I’m leaving the flat—our flat. Our flat where we had made
so many fond memories, ones that I’m beginning to forget with each
passing day without you here with me. We could have made more, had you
stayed longer.
And as I step onto the train, waving my final goodbyes to the city I have come to love, a single tear slips from my eye.
Day Fifty:
After
a short train ride home yesterday, and the unpacking of my things, I
have finally settled into my old child-like bedroom. My mother hasn’t
let me out of her sight, and I’m beginning to feel as suffocated as I
was with the boys crowding my breathing space.
I love my mom, I really do, but I just need to be alone.
The
girls are glad to have me back, and they woke me up this morning by
piling on top of me and tickling me awake. It was the first time I had
laughed in a while.
This might be good for me.
Day Fifty-One – Day Seventy:
Yes,
I know this is a lot of days to squeeze into one tiny entry… but I
don’t want to bore you with every single day I spent mucking around with
my little sisters and my mother and stepfather.
Because really, each day was basically spent in the same way.
I
would wake up to Phoebe or Daisy pulling at every strand of my hair,
giggling at me to wake up, and that breakfast was ready. Politely, I
always declined, causing them to slip away in disappointment. Sleep
would capture me for only a little while longer, before mother would
burst into my room, a plate full of food in her hands. She would sit at
the edge of my bed until I finally scarfed every last bit of food from
the plate, and she would quietly leave the room with a smile on her
face. I guess it felt good making her smile, but after every meal I ate I
felt sluggish, and that only made me want to sleep more. Of course,
that wasn’t allowed, and by eleven o’clock I was always dragged away
from the comfort of my sheets out to the park or the store or some other
place the girls wanted to go. They would play and chatter gleefully as I
walked solemnly along them, wondering what I would be doing if you were
walking beside me, holding my hand and taking me from my misery. It’s
not that I don’t like taking care of the girls, it’s just that after a
while—and you know this—they become quite a handful.
My family misses
you too, you know. There have been some—very few, but some—discussions
about you. Mom won’t talk about you for more than a couple minutes
though, as she thinks that talking about you will only hurt me. But to
be honest, I feel a weight lifted off of my shoulders whenever I speak
your name. Yet at the same time, it hurts. I don’t know quite how to
explain it, that’s just the way it is.
Mark came up to me one day,
asking how I was feeling. I told him I was well like I did to everyone
else, but for some reason he didn’t seem to go along with my façade as
everyone else did. We sat for a while, just talking about anything and
everything until he made sure I was feeling better again. And to be
honest, for a little while I did begin to feel better. But of course,
good feelings never seem to last. Especially when you have a nest of
guilt tucked away into your heart.
The girls have noticed the change
in me, and I feel horrible. I’m hurting everyone around me and I hate
it. When they notice my sour mood, at first they had tried to make me
smile and laugh, but now they just walk away slowly, as if they’re
unsure of how to even handle me anymore. I guess I don’t blame them… I
don’t even know how to handle myself.
I gained weight and am finally
healthy again, and everyone’s happy about that. But I still feel empty
inside. The weight gain has only added to the weight set on my
shoulders.
I don’t know if this is telling you much of how those days
went, but like I said, they were quite uneventful. The pain had
subsided for a couple days, only to return once again.
Needless to say, it didn’t help as much as everyone thought it would.
Day Seventy-One:
I’m
on the train back to London now, and let me just say that I’m nervous.
More nervous than I ever have been. More nervous than I was before our
first performance, where you whispered encouraging words into my ear
before we went on up to stage. You smiled at me reassuringly before the
song started, and after that I felt as if I were soaring.
It’s sad to
think that I’ll never be able to perform with you again, or snuggle up
close with you in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep, or come to
you when I just need a hug. I’m scared to return to the flat.
What if they’ve changed it?
—
I’m
home now, sitting in your room actually. It’s left exactly the way it
was. I am so relieved right now I can’t even explain it.
I’m just glad I won’t have to sleep without a bit of you here with me.
Day Seventy-Two:
The
boys came over today. It was the first time seeing them in basically a
month. They must have expected more… maybe a happier version of
myself—like I was before. Well, newsflash for them, I will never be that
Louis again. I know that for a fact now.
You took a chunk of me with you, Harry. I’m only a part of what I was before. Now I’m broken, torn apart inside.
Niall
and Liam hugged me tightly for a while, crying tears of happiness and
relief to see that I had gained weight. They claim to be happy that I
was back, but I don’t think they were. I’m not the Louis they know or
love, I’m a stranger. As for Zayn, he just stood back for a while as he
waited for the other two to finish welcoming me home. When they were
through he hugged me as well. I think he may have cried the hardest.
Day Seventy-Three:
I
emerged from the flat this morning, in just a bathrobe and slippers.
The sun was shining harshly in my eyes, and I frowned in distaste. All I
needed was some milk for my cereal, but of course, nothing always goes
as planned.
At the sight of me, about four or five girls began to
squeal, instantly ushering themselves closer to me. I really wasn’t in
the mood, but I put on the show. You know how that goes. They began to
chatter excitedly to me, talking about absolutely nothing that mattered
to me, and I forced a tight grin on my face.
Suddenly they became
quiet as they took in my appearance, and one slowly stepped forward to
give me a small hug. Though it may have just been an excuse to touch me,
I appreciated the girl’s gesture. I didn’t mean to, but I began to cry
in her arms. She only stood there, holding me until my cries ceased to
sniffling and backed away to wipe my tears.
“We all loved him, you
know. You two loved each other though, and that was obvious. He loved
you so much Lou, don’t forget that. Don’t you ever forget that.” She had
whispered, and squeezed me one last time before walking away.
She
hadn’t even asked for an autograph or a picture, and that’s when I
realized: our fans truly do care. It’s not just about the fact that
we’re famous, or “cute”.
I realized a lot today.
But one huge thing in particular that I feel the need to share with you is that I realized I can’t live without you.
Day Seventy-Four:
I
tried to fight the urge, but it had been calling me for quite a while. I
punched another mirror today, with my good hand of course. The sight of
the crimson liquid seeping through the newly created cracks in my skin
fascinated me, and I let myself sit there and bleed myself dry until I
felt nothing but numb.
There was no pain, only a lingering calmness sweeping through me until I let myself drift off into unconsciousness.
Day Seventy-Five:
I
just realized that it’s been over two months without you, and that only
makes this more real. I’m nothing but an empty shell now. I live with
no purpose and I have nothing left to give to this world.
The pain is never-ending.
Day Seventy-Six:
I
pulled out your note again today. It was tucked away to the back of my
bedside drawer, in my own attempt to hide it away from myself. But I
just had to see your handwriting, and read the words printed on the page
that I know by heart, words which I could recite in my sleep.
I feel
guilty now more than ever, as the pang of guilt is beginning to seep
through my soul once more. It’s never left, but re-reading your note has
hurt me in ways I had never imagined were possible until now.
Eleanor
is long gone; she’s out of the picture. I haven’t called her back ever
since I ended things. I can’t believe it took you being gone for me to
realize she wasn’t what I wanted. You could have just told me. I would
have dumped her right then and there.
I should have told you, I
guess, but I wasn’t aware of those feelings at the moment. All I can do
is blame myself though. It’s my fault and it always will be.
Day Seventy-Seven:
I
ran into Anne today. I don’t know what she was doing in London, and I
didn’t ask, but when she saw me she instantly fell into my arms, sobbing
her poor little heart out into my chest.
“It hurts more each time I
see it.” She whispered into my ear, and pulled away before I could
reply. I stood dumbfounded on the street in a sea of people, staring
with my mouth agape at the disappearing figure of your mother.
I just assumed she was talking about your grave.
Day Seventy-Eight:
I
didn’t visit your grave yesterday because I was just too scared. I just
now realized that I hadn’t visited you once since the funeral, and the
guilt is eating away at me now more than ever.
I feel terrible. I
feel completely, utterly terrible. I’ve been so selfish. I’ve always
been so selfish. I’ve always thought about myself instead of you.
So
now here I am, sitting before your grave with tears running down my
face. The flowers are fresh, and there are dozens of them Haz. People
love you. I brought a single rose; I sure hope it’s enough. I didn’t
want to crowd the place, but seeing all of these different flowers makes
mine look pathetic.
I gave it to you anyways. I set it right in
front. I plan on staying here a while, so I have a couple blankets with
me and a bottle of wine. Red. That’s always been your favorite. Right
Harry?
Day Seventy-Eight:
I woke up still sitting before your
grave today, only to realize that I had gotten myself drunk last night,
and passed out in the grass.
You must be ashamed of me.
Day Seventy-Nine:
I
think it’s going to be a daily routine, visiting your grave. I promise
to bring a rose every day, just so I can at least compare somewhat to
all of these beautiful flowers surrounding you. There are daisies and
lilies, you always loved lilies.
I sat and sang to you today; I hope
you heard it wherever you are. I know how much you love that song. It
brings the memories flooding back to me, and I remember that day at the
judge’s house when you sang your heart out just to impress them. I’ll
never forget your voice in that song, or your voice in any song for that
matter.
But I sang it for another reason, Harry.
I’m torn. I
really am. I don’t know what to do… and I just want you to send me
something, anything at all. I need a sign telling me if I’m making the
right decision or not.
Day Eighty & Eight-One:
I’m sorry I didn’t visit you yesterday. Niall, Liam, and Zayn seemed to have different plans, and dragged me along to the beach.
It’s
not warm enough out yet, but they seemed to think that it’d be a good
time regardless of what the weather was like. Truth be told, I hated it.
While they ran across the sand kicking a football around, I sat up in
the grass, watching the waves roll over the coast and thrash against the
rocks.
It was so peaceful and tranquil. I had almost lost myself in
the scene when I heard a voice. Your voice to be exact. I could feel
your presence beside me, as you slung your arm around my shoulder. When I
looked over, you were smiling widely towards me, grinning the grin that
had always caused my heart to stutter.
“I love the beach Lou, isn’t it beautiful?”
By
then I was so overwhelmed I wasn’t able to answer, and the tears
overcame my ability to speak or even move quickly. The boys immediately
noticed and rushed to my side, carrying me away as I yelled your name,
begging you to come back.
Today I am confined to spending the whole
day with Zayn, who had gently offered to take me under his wing for the
night. I declined, but after a lot of insisting and pleading, stating
that it was of my best interest, I gave in angrily.
We did nothing
really, just sat and talked about everything. He wouldn’t even let me
talk about you though, and it hurt me. I’m still so sorry I couldn’t
come.
Day Eighty-Two:
I swore I heard you singing today. In the
middle of my showering, I could hear the faint hum of your voice singing
along with the song blaring through the speakers. The voice was so
beautiful and alluring, I found myself instantly becoming entranced
within it. I knew it was your voice the second I heard it.
You sound so beautiful Harry. You truly sound like an angel now.
I
visited your grave finally again today, with three roses this time, for
the two days that I missed. When I sang, I could hear the echoing
chorus of your own voice melodizing with my own. I sang “Moments” just
for you, because I know how much you liked that song. I remember one
time you teared up while performing it, and had to wipe the tears away
as you continued.
Day Eighty-Three:
The boys think I’m getting
better. They think I’m moving on. But the truth is that they don’t know
how I’ve been hearing your voice sing me to sleep every night.
Day Eighty-Four:
I
saw you in my dreams last night. You were on stage, which isn’t
surprising because you had always told me that’s where you loved to be
the most. You looked at me and smiled, beckoning me to come closer.
When
you took hold on my hands, it felt as if you were real… and I never
wanted to let go. I never wanted the moment to end. Your mouth leaned
down to brush against the shell of my ear, and I immediately felt the
shivers running down my spine.
“Come with me.” You whispered, and pulled back only a short amount of time before crashing your lips against mine.
It was the most perfect kiss I had ever had. Yet it wasn’t real.
So when I woke up only to find you not there beside me, I began to cry.
Day Eighty-Five:
I
ran into Eleanor today. She’s been doing well, not that that’s
surprising. She had always been kind of selfish, and I can’t believe it
took me this long to realize. She asked me how I was doing, though I
doubt she could have cared less. Then, she began to talk about you.
I couldn’t bear to hear her speak your name, so I left without a single word.
Day Eighty-Six – Eighty-Eight:
I
slept for these three days. There’s not much I can say about them. All I
can say is that it felt good to see you, and that’s why I found it so
hard to wake up. That’s why I continued to sleep.
I just wanted to see you and hear you.
Day Eighty-Nine:
Liam
called me today, asking if I wanted to grab something to eat. My
stomach gurgled in response, so I agreed. I guess it was just an excuse
to stop torturing myself with the dreams that I had been having…
We
passed the graveyard on the way to the restaurant, and I asked the
driver to pull over quickly. Liam gave me a strange look, before
following my rushing body through the door and towards your grave. I had
never visited your grave with anyone else, so I wasn’t quite able to do
the usual routine.
I’m sorry.
But I did manage to sing to you,
along with Liam. Our voices echoed throughout the graveyard, bouncing
from tombstone to tombstone, sending our voices flying through the area.
I hope you liked our song. But I do miss singing to you with just me
around, so I think I’ll stick to visiting you alone.
By the way, the food at the restaurant was good, and I’m finally regaining my appetite. Not that it matters.
Day Ninety:
Today
I visited my mother, right after I visited you of course. I spent the
entire day lounging around the house, playing with the girls and
catching up with mum and Mark.
It felt nice to be with the family again, and it hurt that I had to leave them soon.
When
I pecked mum on the cheek, baring my farewell to her, she held me close
to her. She didn’t want me to leave, and she made that clear when she
began begging me to stay for the night, which I agreed to.
I guess I might as well have the decency to spend more time with my family before I leave.
Day Ninety-One:
I spent today at the park, sitting on the benches reading my journal while the girls played on the playground.
I’ve written a lot Harry, but it’s not enough. It’s never going to be enough.
After
taking the girls out for ice cream, and spending a couple hours with
mum outside by the fire we had started, I said my final goodbyes.
I
held them so tightly in my arms, I swear they couldn’t breathe. I hugged
them with all of the strength I had, letting them know how much I loved
them. I kissed my mother on the cheek, telling her how much I loved her
as well as the girls. I even hugged Mark as well. When he told me to
come around again soon, I could feel the tears begin to start, and
hastily made my way towards the car.
It was the last time I would ever be seeing them.
Day Ninety-Two:
I
made peace with Eleanor today. I know how much you didn’t like her, and
she’s part of the reason you left, but I just couldn’t bear to leave
without making sure every bridge I had burned was built back again.
Day Ninety-Three:
I
spent the day at the studio with the boys, singing my heart out into
the microphone to the new songs for the album. I felt a bit bad, because
when I left they would be forced to create new recordings once again.
I visited your grave once again, setting two roses at the foot of your headstone.
Day Ninety-Four:
Niall,
Zayn, and Liam have insisted we try sight-seeing today. It’s crazy to
think, that all this time I’ve lived in London, I’ve never seen half of
the sights located within the city.
So today was spent with the boys
again, hopping from tourist attraction to tourist attraction, taking
various pictures with each other in front of the landmarks, as well as
with some fans who happened to spot us.
I didn’t mind it this time really, because the last of my days were meant to be well spent.
Day Ninety-Five:
Where’d you go? You weren’t in my dreams last night, and you didn’t sing with me when I sang to your grave.
I’m starting to feel lonely again.
Day Ninety-Six:
I
stopped by the store on the way home from the studio, making sure that
none of the boys followed me in. I grabbed a large bottle of pills and
bought them, without as much as a second glance from the cashier.
I’m going the same way as you did Harry, I owe you that much.
Day Ninety-Seven:
The
urge to take the pills is there, but I’m not through living the last of
my days yet. Today I called everyone I know, and told them how much I
loved them. Most questioned it, but I assured them that it was just
because I was feeling lovey. Of course, they believed me.
Today
Niall, Liam, and Zayn came over. We sat around my laptop and watched X
Factor videos, along with taped performances of all of us. We laughed
and we cried. I looked around at the three of them, and began to
convince them how much I loved them.
I don’t want to lose them, I
really don’t. And I know, I know how hard it will be on them when I go.
But I’m ready. I can’t stand to live anymore without you here.
Day Ninety-Eight:
I
visited Twitter for the first time in ages, only to find my mentions
flooded and the fans freaking out all over my timeline. They’re worried
about me, and it’s hard to read all of the heartfelt messages they’ve
left me, only to realize that by tomorrow I’ll be gone.
I send one last tweet, faking my happiness but meaning every word said:
Sorry I haven’t been on Twitter loves .. but I love you all, don’t ever forget that! Xx
Almost
instantly my Twitter was being flooded with relieved mentions and
replies to my post, asking where the hell I’ve been. But I only ignored
them, and instead shut off my laptop, allowing myself to take a final
good night’s sleep.
Day Ninety-Nine:
I visited your grave one last
time. I left a couple more roses in apologies for my absence the last
couple days, but that shouldn’t matter within a couple of hours. I sang
one last song to you, your all time favorite song, and I could finally
hear you singing along with me. Your voice sounded closer now, and I
knew that it was time.
I’m going to take the entire bottle of pills,
and lock myself in your bedroom. I’m going to wear all of your clothes,
so I can inhale the dissipating smell of you as I take my final breaths.
Ninety-nine days without you has felt like an eternity, and it’s impossible to stay here any longer.
I
have your journal and note in my trembling hands right now, and I’m
nervous as fuck Harry, I hope you know that. I’m leaving these here with
you, so they can be found easily once I’m gone. They were yours to
begin with.
My heart is poured out into this journal, and my heart is yours.
I’ll be seeing you soon, I love you.
-Lou xx
Some
say that love is the most powerful emotion a person can feel. It
overtakes every fiber in your being, weaving its way through your soul
and killing you from the inside out. It deteriorates your common sense,
causing you to do stupid things all in the name of love.
That’s what they theorized.
When
they found Louis’ cold, unmoving body covered in Harry’s duvet, wearing
Harry’s old clothes, it was the only explanation at the time.
It had all been in the name of love.
When
the paramedics arrived, it was too late, and he was gone. Niall, Liam,
and Zayn had lost yet another friend. They stood there crying into one
another over the loss of one of their best friend’s.
Louis stared
down at them, a sad smile stretched across his lips as he witnessed his
body being pulled off from the bed, and out away from the flat. He
watched as the boys dropped to the floor, crying their hearts out. He
couldn’t help but want to reach out and comfort them, but knew it wasn’t
possible.
They began to blame themselves, saying that they hadn’t
been there for him enough, which only led Louis to stare at them in
frustration.
He was happy now, and he wanted them to be happy for him.
Louis
felt a hand pull at his shoulder, and turned around to face a pair of
green eyes—blinking, moving, everything. He smiled at the boy before
him, who stood smiling widely back. Tears were brimming the two boys
eyes as they turned back to face their best friends, whom they had hurt
so badly in their fight for love.
“You ready?” Harry asked, turning
Louis’ attention back on him. Louis only nodded, and Harry took ahold of
his hand, leading him far away and into his new life.
“I love you.” Louis whispered, leaning over to peck Harry across the lips.
“I love you too.”
So
the two walked off into the light, holding hands and singing softly
along with the angels calling their names, and singing their perfect
lullaby. Louis looked over to view Harry, the boy whom he had loved for
so long and had caused so much pain in their previous life.
Now they had a new life, one they could spend together forever, singing with the angels.
