This Thing Upon Me [Order The eBook] [Harry Styles]

Chapter 60

(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It's important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)

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February 3, 2017

Hollywood Hills

(SPECIAL THANK YOU TO THE INCREDIBLE KELLIE WOOLF! 

MY  EDITOR &  MY ABSOLUTE INSPIRATION!)

Last night was like a movie. The party was full of huge names and familiar faces, all smiles and laughs and incessant imbibing; but mostly it felt like I was on the outside looking in, watching everyone teem inside a snow globe like agitated insects, unaware of me entirely. I walked the block a few times before it all began (trying to catch a bit of air) observing them as they arrived. All were herded into the outdoor café of the restaurant which had been reserved for the exclusive guestlist. Yes, I studied them with the fastidiousness of a zoologist who'd newly discovered a frightfully humanoid species of apes, but ultimately remained unimpressed with my findings.

The private after party at the house in the middle of the afternoon the following day had been even wilder. I drank too much and could barely see straight even as I lay here now over 14 hours later. Brain fog was real, and it had only begun to disseminate after a short nap. As I awakened fully and gauged my surroundings (in search of some semblance of coherency) much of the haze remained.

Tonight was quieter and more uneventful, which suited my present frame of mind. I was doing a lot of vacillating lately, honestly just unsure of what I wanted...with anything really. And I was troubled to find that I was alone when I awoke—one of the top five worst feelings in the human condition (at least where I was concerned.) There was nothing like a warm body beside you to jumpstart the day. Someone to animate a room. Breathe life into the stillness. I was too still. I needed to shake things up.

The room was uncomfortably dark and uncomfortably silent. Mute and colorless, like I was experiencing the very nadir of a bad dream. Still buzzing, I was in no condition to argue if this was reality or not. As I lay sleepless and gathered myself, I figured there was no real chance of slipping under again anytime soon. The New Year had disturbed my sleeping habits, and as I was trying my hardest to abstain from medications to get me sorted again, I couldn't help wishing for a few drops of melatonin to ease the illness of consciousness every now and then. Some nights I petitioned whatever God there may be to tranquilize me (if only for a few hours) but he never heeded my prayers. I think I was hungry too, which always made it difficult to stay asleep after I'd fallen.

It was well after midnight, as the massive view from the master suite illustrated for me, and I felt the sudden urge to write, but couldn't gather my thoughts long enough to put pen to paper. I kept remembering the party, since it was the inaugural public outing in a long list of them to come for the new year. Lots of carpets. Lots of obligations. Lots of countries. I shuddered in anticipation, slipping a hand beneath my shirt to rest on the warmth of my stomach under the sheet. It was the most self-comforting thing I could think to do. My other arm was flung over my face in a half-hearted resignation for all things in general.