Looking Down On The Clouds

Prologue

It was 4am and I was lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling. I went to bed early but I didn't manage to fall asleep, like most nights actually. I looked to the right and saw my phone lying next to me. For a minute I hesitated but then I picked it up and opened Twitter.

The bright light of my phone blinded me, so I closed my eyes for a second and when I opened them the first thing I saw was a tweet saying "How did Louis Tomlinson even manage to be in a band as great as One Direction, his voice is literally the worst. No wonder they had to break up, he completely ruined their sound".

The tweet didn't surprise me. I knew I was the worst singer in the band. It still hurt to read it though. That didn't stop me from reading more tweets that said nothing I hadn't heard or thought before.

"Louis Tomlinson isn't worthy of One Direction", "The four of them looked so good and then there's Louis...", "Honestly what was that guy's purpose in the band? He was nothing but a burden".

As I kept reading the tears were streaming down my face, I knew everything they said was true. At one point I just couldn't take it anymore. Screaming, I threw my phone against my bedroom wall.

I tried to calm myself down by taking deep breaths but I should've known it wouldn't work, like it didn't the night before and the night before that night and all the other nights that I broke down, crying and screaming into my pillow.

There was only one thing that could calm me down, so I got up and hurried to the bathroom like I did a thousand times before. I opened the drawer under the sink and pulled out familiar small bag as I felt many different emotions brooding inside of me. The strongest of them was this incredibly pushing itch that I needed to relieve.

I put out a shiny little blade that had helped me scratch this itch oh so many times before. I pulled up the sleeves of my shirt to reveal my arms. There were scars almost everywhere, some of them a few years old, some of them only a few days.

In the beginning I never cut my wrists because it's such a cliché spot and I was afraid people would notice but I soon realized that I was spending most of my time alone at home and I didn't have anyone who would care enough anyway.

Feeling like I was about to explode, I put the blade to my arm and pushed it down. As I repeated this multiple times, I could feel the pressure inside of me slowly being released with the blood flowing out of the cuts in my arms.

I slowly slid down the wall of my bathroom as tears were silently crawling down my cheeks. I didn't know how many hours I was just sitting there but when I heard my phone ring from my bedroom I snapped out of my head and realized that the sun was already lurking through the half-closed curtains.