I'm doing fucking fantastic.
No, I mean it. Fucking fantastic. Absolutely, positively fan-fucking-tastic.
Two best selling albums in two years, two world tours, a major motion picture and the most supportive and understanding fan base in the world?
I mean, what more could I ask for, right?
That's what I tell myself every night before I go to bed. Every night as I lay, thinking not only of my accomplishments but also my hardships and achievements.
I have it all. The fame, the glory, the confidence. I came out of something huge, and I built myself up higher than I'd ever imagined. I grew the courage to become honest and loyal, both to myself and those who support me. I grew into my own skin, made light of all that I've suffered and used it to push myself harder, will myself further.
I've gotten everything I've ever wanted. I transformed myself into the man I truly believe I was always meant to be.
I grew the copy rage to write about what I want, who I want, and how I feel.
After all these years I finally have the freedom I do desperately craved.
So why does there feel like there's something missing?
Something..or perhaps someone.
YOU ARE READING
Fine line (Larry Stylinson)
FanfictionThe year is 2020. It's been 5 years since one direction split, and Harry Styles has been living the life he'd always dreamed of. With two best selling albums and an upcoming world tour, it seems as if nothing could break his stride. But at the Gramm...