Your Creation • Zarry

78. Golden

My last show of tour at The Forum was bittersweet. On one hand I didn't want the tour to end because I was enjoying it so much but on the other hand, I was really itching to get back into the studio and work on some new music. I had loads of ideas running through my mind throughout the last year and was back to craving the ability to just lay it all out there. There really is no better way to communicate for me personally than by putting the things I had some trouble saying in a song, especially when it came to how I felt about Zayn. Although we did talk to each other pretty frequently, it still never seemed to be enough, and with all the years of time between us and all that had occurred, things were still always being left unsaid. So what I really wanted to do more than anything was to write down my stories, like an order of events of everything that I had ever experienced; the good, the bad, all of it.

All that I had to hold onto was knowing that Zayn still loved me. It's all I ever thought about when the days got long and hard, when minutes turned into hours and things started to blur together and I couldn't sleep at night, that's what I thought about. Despite the ups and downs of life, the other girls involved, the fights, the madness, the passion, the longing, our love was still there. It still lived on and kept fighting and I think I was too busy romanticizing all of these experiences instead of realizing that everything was slowly but surely about to come crashing down.

Again.

It was the night after my last show in Los Angeles that I was at my friend and producer Tom's house, otherwise known as Kid Harpoon, and we were chatting about some concepts when Camille showed up. I couldn't help but notice how distant she had been the last few weeks and she dipped out so fast from my last show to see her friends, yet again, that I was starting to think that something was wrong, but was too afraid to approach her on it.

"Harry, can I talk with you for a minute?" she asked, twirling her blonde hair between her fingers, looking slightly nervous.

"Sure," I replied.

We walked out onto the back porch and she lit up a cigarette immediately. I just sort of stood next to her, leaning against the railing, feeling anxious and hoping that whatever she needed to talk to me about wasn't anything that bad. She took a deep breath in and out, blowing smoke into the air.

"I don't think I can do this anymore," she said softly, not even looking at me.

"What do you mean?"

"Like, dating. I just don't think that I can date you anymore."

I suddenly felt this burning in the back of my throat and I couldn't swallow. This was that creeping feeling that I had lingering upon me for the last several weeks and even Jeff had mentioned it to me back in New York and I knew. I just knew what was coming. It was all leading up to this moment and I just didn't feel so good anymore, like I was going to hurl over the railings.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"For the last year I thought it would be fun to be your girlfriend and I thought, why not? So I gave it a shot thinking maybe I'd grow on you. Maybe you'd love me. Don't get me wrong, I have enjoyed our time together. You're a wonderful person. But I'm not the only one in your heart, and I know that. I'm not angry, but I just don't think that I can accept it anymore. I love you and I care about you but I want something serious, something that's going to go somewhere. Can you give me that?"

She had every reason to feel this way, to be honest. I had given her a chance to dive out over the holidays and she still chose to stay. She decided that I needed her and I did need her, but I knew deep down in my heart that it made complete sense that she was going to leave me at some point, but that didn't make it hurt any less and I felt my spirits turning melancholy as I stood there beside her feeling like the worst person on Earth.