Dead Stars

August 5th

I haven't slept in days trying to figure out what to say. I don't know where to start. There are so many words and things I need to say running through my mind that I don't know how to make it a whole, but here's a start.

It's been seven months since you left, Peyton. I don't know why it took this long. I don't know why I didn't open the journal sooner. I wish I did. I wish I had known.

The morning I found out you left was... well, there's no other way to put it but heartbreaking. I got up early in the morning, went to the market to buy your favorite breakfast, came back, cooked it, and prepared this entire breakfast for you. I knew it wasn't going to make up for how much of a jerk I've been, but it was a step towards that.

I wanted to prepare you breakfast so we can talk about what happened that night. I wanted to make it up to you and that time, I really meant it. You usually get up at around nine in the morning, so I waited for you to get up and come out of your room. It was nearing half past ten and you still didn't leave your room. I figured it was because you were still upset with me.

I put on a brave face, walked to your room, and knocked. "Peyton?"

There was no answer.

I sighed, "Peyton, I know you're still upset. But can we please talk about it? You can't ignore me forever." As I knocked again, the door opened. I opened the door and walked in to find that it was empty and you were nowhere to be found. All of your things, your clothes, and everything else that you owned were gone. The only thing that was left was this journal on the top of your bed.

As soon as I realized that you had left, I have never been so angry at myself. I left the room and grabbed my phone. I tried calling you over and over again but your phone was turned off. I tried everything to try and reach you, but I couldn't. And I guess you didn't want me to.

I remember just staying home the entire day just waiting that maybe you would change your mind and you would come home. When the realization hit me that you weren't coming back, I walked to my room and maybe try and sleep. Before I did though, I went back in your room and grabbed this journal that was still lying on top of your bed.

I thought then maybe I should read it, but at that moment, I didn't think I wanted to read it. Not yet, atleast.

You see, when I realized that you had left hurt me in ways I didn't think I could. As a matter of fact, I would take being cheated on by Lauren ten times over than this.

You were the only constant in my life, Peyton. No matter what I went through—good, bad--- you were always there. You held my hand throughout everything. I know I have my parents and my other friends, but none of them compared to you. You were the person I could say anything to no matter how twisted or weird I get. You were the person to start dancing with me in public. You were the person who would tell me the truth even when I didn't want to hear it.

My mom left when I was younger, my stepmom and I hardly speak, all the girls I've loved left me, but you were always there. I didn't have much in life, but I had you.

So, when you left, I was broken. For the most part I was frustrated because I let this happen. I was being a selfish piece of shit that I didn't realize that I was already hurting you. I was so determined to find the right girl that I lost track of the only girl that ever mattered to me.

The night we fought and you left me standing there in the middle of the living room, I knew then I had royally fucked up. I stood there trying to think of what to do to fix this mess I made.

I approached your door a few minutes after you left and I heard you crying. If there's one thing I hated in the entire world, it would be seeing or hearing you cry. When I heard you softly sobbing on the other side of the door, I never hated myself so much. Hearing how much pain I caused killed me.

I contemplated on whether I should knock or just leave you be. I wanted so much to fix this. I wanted so much to hold you while you cried. I wanted to be there with you, but I didn't want to cause any more pain. So I turned around and went to my room.

I tried to fall asleep that night, but I just couldn't. I stayed up thinking of what happened. There was one light that kept repeating in my head. It was when you said, "You know you spent all this time looking for a girl who would look at you the way you looked at them when that's how I've always looked at you."

I could hear it in my head over and over again. I couldn't fully understand why you said that at first, but now that I've read your journal. I understand now.

As I was packing my stuff a few days ago, I came across your journal again. It was in one of the drawers in my room. I figured I was ready to read since it has been seven months since that night. I spent the entire night reading it.

Ever since I did, I couldn't sleep. I was tossing and turning in my bed. Every memory I ever had with you came running through my mind. And that's when it hit me.

I spent all this time, those months looking for the right girl—the one—when it has been you all along. You're the right girl for me, Peyton. You're the one I'm supposed to be with.

I'm not going to waste my time and write about how I was stupid not to realize this sooner. I'm going home. I'm going home to you.

Love,

Niall.

P.S. You were right about her. About Patrice, I mean. She didn't love me.