Summertime Sadness // Larry

1

...

Inhale Deep breath.

Exhale.

The sea's salty flavoured air filled his nose once more, making its way deep inside his lungs, settling there on the bottom, freshening them up like spring-cold water in a hot summer day. Giving them life, just like a nearly dead plant when it's given a second chance and a drop of water.

Harry Styles, a midd twenties handsome boy is standing by the shore of the white sanded beaches of his little town, doing his morning routine, that consisted of some yoga and meditation after the long morning jog through the cobblestone paths of the town. Slight sweat is drying out in his brown curls and he feels them trickle his nose. His green eyes are covered by his thin eye lids, his lashes falling down on his cheek. The sight was only for the hot gust of wind that came with the summer to witness...

Many on the town considered Harry the angel who accidentally escaped, or as his best friend jokes around, tripped down and fell on earth from heaven. Although many more just avoided him for being who he was and how he was, the shine he radiated from being so open blinding and bothering them.

It had been hard for him, to be who he is. Open and proud. Free once more. Like a bird who every morning spread his wings wide open by the shoreline as he worshiped his mind under the soft rising sunlight. That's what he felt like, that's how it felt to finally just be open.

It's calming, as the waves hit the shore lazily on the summers best days, they come one after another, never stopping their pace, calm and unfazed by anything in the world. The wind hit the pale skin of his body, that filtered against his thin white shirt he wore that morning. It was refreshing, like life was restored.

His thoughts where filled with the all positivity he could grasp on his mind. Thinking of only the good things he was given from whatever higher power was out there. And he was thankful. Thankful for having a mind like his, that could turn all those twisted daydream into real stories worth reading. Books he could write with his own imagination. He was thankful for having found himself amongst words and chapters of his own, where love is not conditioned, and everything and everyone was free to be themselves. As a writer, meditation was his brain's workout, helped him solve his plot lines and dialogues on his brain between characters. It's amazing how it all works.

His lips curled on the sides of his lips as a wave made its way to his toes. He opened one eye as if to scold the wave away and closed it again scoffing.

There goes the fragile balance of his mind.

He opens his lids, eyelashes flapping a few times to focus on the surroundings. The soft light hit his green eyes, making them shine a bit. The sun was completely above the horizon, it was time to head home now.

He dusted his sandy palms against his yellow trunks and passed a hand through his now dried hair. He took one last deep breath and stood up.

Nice!

This town never failed to make him feel good. He had grown so much mentally since he got here, healed and refreshed once again after having left his burden behind with the past all together. It was wonderful how his future was nothing like his past now. That's all he thoughts as his feet took him back to the main pavement cobblestone road where only a few cars passed now and than.

People on the sidewalk waved at him returning smiles as big and cheerful as his. Harry loved most of the people in this place, they where all friendly and connected to each other.

He stoped at the Beachwood cafe to get a coffee, some croissants and sugar powdered donuts. He walked inside the bell on top of the door chiming cheerfully.