How To Save A Life (Larry Stylinson)

Prologue: Harry.

"I let everybody down. Everybody hates me."

              Depression is a bitter thing. It starts as just a simple insecurity. "Maybe I am a little lanky. Maybe I talk differently. Maybe I'm different." In this country, being different is the worst you can be. You have to follow what people say and you have to be what they expect of you, otherwise you're just a disappointment.

             That's what I am. Harry Styles is a disappointment. My fame has only made things worse. I receive hate message after hate message pointing out what I already know. They point out my flaws as if i don't already see them. They act as if I don't know how disgusting I am.

            Sighing, I stripped down to nothing and crawled into bed. All the other boys were asleep at their house, Louis sleeping in the room across from me. Depression always seemed to hit me worse at night. I was left alone with my thoughts. I'm forced to seriously think about my life.

             I never expected to become famous. In my wildest fantasies I only thought I might get one album. Instead, I got a band worth millions with billions of fans. I was glad most of the fans didn't realize how I was. They didn't realize I was broken.

            I hadn't always been this way. Back in school, I had been pretty popular. Most of my friends were girls, so I got a bit of a reputation as a womanizer but everyone knew that wasn't true. All my friends knew the real me. I was just a dorky posh kid who loved psychology and worked in a bakery. I had great self-confidence and I was always smiling.

          Smiling. Something I haven't done in a long time. I don't think I remember how to smile. I haven't been genuinely happy since the X-Factor days. I wish I could enjoy my new fame and all the money but instead I was forced to face the sickeningly reality of who I was.

           Turning on my laptop, I quickly logged onto this website called Tumblr. It's a type of blogging website. I'd created a blog only a month or two ago, but I had 2,000 followers. Apparently male bloggers got followers easily. I mostly talked about my depression. It was a way to escape my feelings. No one knew I was Harry Styles, they knew me as 'FlamingandFaking".

          I don't know exactly what started this, but I had been on Twitter and people were tweeting about how someone wrote some crude rumor about me on this website. Soon, I was making a blog. At first, I posted funny pictures of cats but soon I started using it as a place to vent.

           I couldn't tell the boys. All of them would be so disappointed in me. They spent time with me, so I'm positive they saw all my flaws. They probably talk about me behind my back. Talk about my hideous body and the way I stammer when I speak. The way my hair is always greasy or how I am such a man whore.

           I hated that the most. I've slept with 2 women in my entire life. I've given one blowjob. That is all the sexual experience I've had. All the other boys, discluding Niall, have had sex more than that. I don't know why people think I'm the whore of the group, but I guess I can be whatever people want me to be.

          After logging on to my blog, I took a picture of my most recent cuts. I aimed the webcam at my hip, posting it with a quote. "Maybe if I start cutting my wrists I'll hit a vein." I posted the picture, laying back in bed as tears came.

             The only reason I didn't cut my wrists was so the boys didn't see. It would hurt them. I wouldn't be able to deal with the sympathy. "Oh Harry, why do that? Aren't you happy?" They would ask, and then they would give me the look. The one that broke my heart. "You're just a failure, Haz." They would all say, and the one boy who I never wanted to hurt would hate me more than ever.

           Louis. The only one of the boys who has ever bothered to try to get to know me more than the basic. He called me his best friend, but I couldn't do the same for him. I couldn't trust him with my secrets. He would judge me just like everyone else.

          I quickly wrote a rant on Tumblr, tears rolling down my eyes. "If I killed myself tonight, would he miss me at all? Would he care? When he says he loves me, does he even think hwo much it hurts? Love is just a lie, and the consequence of lying is my death." I posted it, not bothering to check the replies for the picture. I shut my laptop down, heading in to the bathroom and locking the door.

          I sat on the floor in the corner, grabbing the trash bin and my piece of brokn glass. Once in a rage of angst and disgust, I had broken a picture frame with a picture of me and Louis. I kept the broken glass, using it to harm myself. Louis would be glad that I did. He would be glad he did his part in helping me to my slow death.

I brought the glass up, closing my eyes. "Sweet agony."