Bad Blood (h.s.)

Part Eighty

This is a filler chapter. It's short but it gives you good Harry insight with this book! <3

Part Eighty

Harry.

I have never believed in perfect. The word perfect has multiple meanings in different parts of speech. The definitions are endless.

There are many: (1) excellent or complete beyond practical or theoretical improvement (2) exactly fitting the need in a certain situation or for a certain purpose (3) entirely without any flaws, defects, or shortcomings (4) to bring to completion; finish, and (5) to bring to perfection; make flawless or faultless.

I realized that perfect doesn't exist. The world is imperfect; no one having an ability to be perfect. There just simply is one thing everyone wants and that is to be perfect, not afraid and is too good to even be on the earth.

My life, growing up with bruises on my arms and scars on my skin, has been filled with hate and horror. There is a time I thought I was literally going to die in the arms of the paramedics due to a knife wound on my neck.

The trauma I have induced has opened my eyes to see that there are too many feelings bottled in my body. There aren't enough ways to let them out; medication now the only thing that can dull the pain.

I'm not perfect; far from it in actuality. My head spins with the thought that one day I am going to die because I'm mental. So mental. There is just nothing about my life that could possibly lead me to anything good.

Perfection isn't so much achieved rather than given. A given person is perfect; whether living or dead, you are given the ability to be perfect. Flawless, raw, and utterly perfect. In my eyes, this world is nothing short of a shit planet holding on by a string of sensuality.

There is perfect in movies; movies are made to show a perfect world. That's why I hate them. The more I think about this, the more I turn into Holden Caulfield, becoming a living form of the man. There is no truth and no innocence; nothing in this world holds compassion and perfection.

Glass breaks, plants die, people die, and people kill. This world is a horror and the only thing I want to do is become some deranged, unlikely hero and save the bastards who have insufficiently ran this place into the ground.

Then there is me. Stupid, lame, filled with various disorders, and absolutely, completely, forever, insanely, and will always be deeply in love with Bethany Louise Jones.

She is perfect. Pure perfection.

She is the light in this hell-hole of a dark world and I could never let that light out. She's just- She makes the day go by so quickly, so fast and I love it. When she smiles, I smile even when I am having a bad day. When she laughs, I laugh even when it's a stupid joke or little things that pick on me. When she blushes, I smile and kiss her cheeks, causing her cheeks to deepen the pink color. When she cries, I do everything in my power to get her to stop, wrapping her weeping form in my arms and kissing her endlessly. When she's mad, I stop her midway as she is yelling at me and grab her face, kissing her and her body just relaxes, kissing me back.

My perfect girl is Bethany Louise Jones, and I love her. She is perfect, beyond perfect really. She's my beauty, perfection in every way, the one who is flawless.

If I'm having a horrible day, my mind taking control and leaving my actions unguarded, she'll do this insanely comforting thing. She will stand behind me, wrap her arms around my chest and pull me down to the ground. I will sit in between her legs as she tightens her arms, allowing me to realize I'm breathing and that she's there. It's as if she doesn't care about my disorders, doesn't care I'm sick. She sees me as Harry Edward Styles, the person she calls her boyfriend and the love of her life.

The day I walked into the bookstore, my heart didn't know that the brown-haired goddess sitting behind the counter, sheepishly reading Pride and Prejudice, would soon become the love of my life and the only girl I could ever look at. She was never a joke after the night I came over and she talked to me. She kissed my cheek and held my hand, giving me a sense of care.

It was as if she was given to me, this girl of perfection was given to me as my perfect. Beth is the only girl I could ever even remotely begin on living my life with, sharing myself completely like I do with her, or ever give any thought into having children.

Ever since we had Angelee, we're closer. We can't separate after everything we've been through and I just can't bring myself to come in terms with marriage. It won't work for me and I don't want her to think I'm the bad guy. We can do this without rings and without a ceremony.

She speaks so highly of her future and I want to help her try and give her at least a child. I hate kids; I really do, but knowing the baby would be mine and with Beth, I actually want it to happen. She would create a brilliant baby, smart and beautiful like herself and I would be happy. Beyond happy and supportive of her and the child every day.

Her eyes. That is all I have to say because they are beautiful and I can't stop looking at them. She looks at me like I'm her world and she is mine. She's my world and I love her every day. Forever.

__________

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This chapter will hopefully give you a ton of help with what Harry thinks. Post traumatic stress disorder is a serious disorder that causes anxiety and Beth helps him a lot. Bipolar disorder is a depression that causes Harry to go from one feeling to another quickly. I hope it helps and please keep commenting! I'll answer any questions! <3