Do You Know Who You Are? (l.s.)

37

warning : self harm, blood

Louis Tomlinson 

I remember that day, when I left Niall's house in the fresh morning. I remember the feeling of betrayal I was carrying in my heart when I discovered Harry told Liam about… you know, the singing thing. What a clown I was. The dinner with my mom and Harry the previous day was a disaster but I honestly didn't think that Harry would tell Liam about all the things he learned about me. I'm so stupid that I can't even be mad at him, no, he probably don't even remember. But that's not a problem, I don't care, everybody knows now and they also know what a stupid idea it was. So I guess the problem is fixed. 

The problem is that when I left Niall's house, Harry wasn't awake and he was the one I needed to go back home. So here is what I thought. At first I saw it like a message, I needed someone, I needed someone to go back home where I feel safe and comfortable. I could take it in another perspective, I couldn't feel safe and comfortable without someone and that someone was Harry. But then I walked back home. I found by myself a way to go back home and I did it. So I understand that I actually could feel safe and comfortable by myself. The thing is that when I got home… I found my mom, laying here alone and then I understood the true message of the story. Yes I can find a way to do things by myself, but with someone it's easier and at the end maybe I would be less broken because they would have held me in my fall. 

Those are the words of a crazy murderer. It doesn't make sense, right?

That's not surprising, I don't even understand myself anymore. My theory is right, I can't fucking deal with my feelings and each of my panic attacks lead to the death of someone I loved. And I'm the one killing them, yay that's nice… So I found a way to not have panic attacks anymore! At the beginning alcohol was enough, when I felt low or anxious, strong alcohol calmed my nerves and that was it but it wasn't long before I lost all control of time with drugs and pain. I couldn't keep control on my body, letting it drift apart was the solution to all my problems and the bonus was how it made me forget about Harry. 

I bought this really ugly place and I think I've been here for 3 days now. I stayed in my house for more than that before finally leaving and I don't think I've slept or eaten anything since then. I've lost everything. My friends, my family, my hope and Harry. Oh no the only thing I had left was actually the reason for all my issues, my feelings. And I needed to let them go too. 

I think it's a garage? or just an abandoned storage unit? I didn't really care, I just needed a place where nobody could hear me. Because yes, I sing again. I actually have nothing else to do and after what happened to the wedding, lyrics have popped up from everywhere in my head. So, I've been writing, writing and writing again. 

The whole place is old, empty and dark, the sun is still shining outside but the tall walls don't let it enter. I'm seated in the middle of the cold room in front of an unstable table with a small lamp to give me light. When I look around me I only see darkness and it helps a lot, I'm alone in my buddle and it's enough to let me get rid of my feelings on the paper. What am I writing? I don't know, the drugs in my veins don't allow me to analyse the letters and understand their meaning but I know that deep down it helps. 

When my wrist starts hurting, the lead of my pencil breaks under the weight of my burden, I toss it on the full page and lean back in my chair. What am I doing? Where is this going? Who the fuck am I? With a heavy exhale I push my hair back with both of my hands and allow myself to think for the first time in a week. 

I can't do that, I can't ignore the problem and expect it to disappear. Should I go out? Should I start a new life based on loneliness? If only what Harry told me, the love he showed me, was real. I know he told me it wasn't the case but I'm still persuaded it's a whole play for his case, he is so dedicated to his job I wouldn't be surprised if lying and faking were some of his tools, breaking people's hearts is probably not one of his limits. How stupid I was to think it may be real, to think that maybe I should tell him what I feel and that he would be the one to save me from myself. How could he love someone like me anyway?