Love... A Niall Horan Love Story

Diary Entries

Diary entry #1

“I know things happen for a reason, but sometimes I wish I knew what that reason was.”

Life is going to come and hit you as hard as it can, as many times as it wants, because  that’s what life does; it does its very best to make your life miserable, and you know that you’ve won the game when you actually feel happy. No more misery, no more tears, no more heartbreak, no more of any of the crap that makes life suck. No one wins. Not really anyway.

Only one thing can make life bearable. Love. True love, to be accurate.  Any kind of love other than true love just leads to heartbreak, and then you start losing the game. True love, being with the person that truly loves you, and you truly love them, can make you forget all the crap that life puts you through. They make you smile and they make you feel good about yourself and they just love you for you, more than anyone else in the world can. And life sucks.

The Script says that bad happens for a reason in their song, Breakeven. What I want to know is what that reason is. I think after all I’ve been through, I deserve an answer. What did I do to deserve all of this? This diary is the only thing keeping me sane. And music. Music helps me more than anything. It’s the only thing I can listen to that doesn’t call me a murderer.

I’m not, obviously, but no one believes me. Why would I kill my own brother?  I’m only the main suspect because I have no alibi. And I fought with him before my mother found his body. To the police, they have found their killer. Now they just have to prove it. I want to know how they plan on proving I killed him when I wasn’t even there. Well, to them, I was there. They probably are going to find the murder weapon with my prints on it or something. Just like a crime show. But I’m not the killer. Plan is not correct. Sorry cops, not sorry. All I want to know is who really killed my brother.  

Love…

 

  The ‘murderer’

Diary entry #2

Why is it that everything bad happens to me? 

Seriously, why is it that everything bad happens to me? My life sucks. I can't focus in school to save my life, so I'll never graduate college, and no one likes me, and now I'm a murderer. Apparently. But I'm not, and no one believes me.

Today the whole school watched as I was pulled out of class to be interviewed by the police. They asked me again, if I killed my brother. I told them no. They laughed in my face. To them, there is no doubt that I killed my brother. No alibi, no real reason to be somewhere else, the fight.

God, I wish I could go back and not leave the house. I wish I could have apologized to my brother. We were fighting over something so stupid. I think it was my grades. He was always so protective... I'm still getting used to talking about him in the past tense. It's so goddamn hard. Do you mind if I swear? 'Cause I know that I will in the next few entries. I used to never swear, but you know, things change. Oh I'm sorry, did that sound bitter? Oh, wait, was that sarcasm? Oh my God, I speak sarcasm?

But seriously, diary, I think I can trust you. I wonder if anyone will read you. Just in case, I won't say absolutely everything. God, I sound insane. I'm talking to a diary like it's a therapist. But I'm going to tell you about the night my brother died.

I got home from school, I remember that much. Then, my brother was waiting for me. It was winter time, about 4:15, so it was dark out. My brother yelled at me. He told me I was worthless, and I was just burdening our family. I needed to get my grades up or I would end up on the streets, doing stupid shit to get money. I wasn't very nice either. I told him to get a job, a girlfriend, a life, anything just to get him off my back. I told him I wanted him gone. I told him that if he died no one would care. Then I walked out. I remember freezing and thinking about my life. I did know that I needed to get my grades up. My parents wanted me to be a doctor, when all I wanted to do was goof off all day and party hard and sing all day, every day.