Rhapsody (Part 2 of Medley).

67: HARRY'S JOURNAL.

"Soulmates."

"Tell me that you turned down the man
Who asked for your hand
'Cause you're waiting for me
And I know,
You're gonna be away a while
But I've got no plans at all to leave..."

I haven't sobered up yet.
In fact, I just want to keep the buzz going for as long as I possibly can, it's the only thing that numbs the pain. Nothing I can do about the mind, though. That tough bastard is impossible to shut completely off.

"And would you take away my hopes and dreams and just stay with me?"

Coming back to this house wasn't a good idea. As wasted as I was/am, I still see her everyfuckingwhere.

All I want is to get away from the memories of her, but seems I can't escape them. My house is haunted by that woman who won't come back to scare the ghosts away.

How am I supposed to live here?

I can't.

"Take my hand and my heart and soul
I will only have these eyes for you
And you know, everything changes
But we'll be strangers
If we see this through"

I need to get away.

I wish I could just disappear, dissolve, or turn to dust, but just not be anymore.

"You could stay within these walls and bleed Or just stay with me"

There are shards of glass on the living room floor from that whiskey glass I smashed against the wall. I don't even drink whiskey! And I'm going lad I don't smoke and carry a lighter or I would've set the grand piano on fire.

My mum would be so disappointed if she saw me tonight. She told me to be proactive with the pain, to convert it into determination to turn things around instead of moping around uselessly all day. But here I am, writing on my journal after three hours at the bar drinking my sorrows away, collapsed on the couch half-naked while the whole house spins out of control around me.

"All my senses come to life
While I'm stumbling home
As drunk as I have ever been
And I'll never leave again
'Cause you are the only one

(...)

Stumbling half drunk
Getting myself lost
I am so gone, so tell me the way home
I listen to sad songs, singing about love
And where it goes wrong..."

"If it hurts, that means you're living." Mum said.

She said it as if this pain is proof that I'm not throwing my life away on things that don't matter, that this pain is proof that I love someone more than myself and that somehow makes me a better person than I was before. She said that as if living a meaningful life equals suffering beyond the limits of our own sanity, as if pain is a marker for how happy we once were.

If hurting is living, I wish I was dead.

Shit! Mum would freak out if she read that. She was so good to me yesterday. She let me whine, and cry, and curse and ramble on about nonsense until I calmed down and she got to talk to me. It was my time to listen.

I had promised not to ask about her chat with Emilia in Los Angeles. She didn't want to lie to me about where she had gone after she made a lame excuse of needing to go shopping and confessed she had met with Emilia. But she wouldn't tell me what they talked about, and I need to know what Em said.