The Journal [Harry Styles]

"January 10th

Dear journal,

I have no idea what i'm doing, if i'm being honest. I wasn't even going to write in this stupid journal but it seems I have nothing better to be doing instead. Sucks for the both of us then, yeah?

You, journal, are not a person so I need to stop refering to you as one. Perhaps I've gone insane.

Well don't think that I'm going to fill you up with the latest gossip or some shit because I'm not. This is strictly just to be filled with my thoughts, maybe opinions on a few girls.

By the way, my name is Harry.

This is stupid. Now im introducing myself to a notebook? Damn. I better keep that me-being-insane thing in mind.

Like I said before about my previous plans of probably never writing in this raggedy old thing, I just saw it lying around in my mother's things that I still havent gotten around to putting away.

I will enlighten you, my mum passed away a few months at the cause of cancer. I tried to tell her smoking those cigarettes where going to kill her, but almost as if to spite me, she always looked my way and took a long sickly drag of the damn thing.

Aside from my grief of the loss of her, I couldn't help but mumble an 'I told you so' as I stood infront of her lifeless body at her lifeless funeral. Highilght of that day: the cake that one of the attending friends of hers brought.

What?

If it where my funeral, she would have done the same and drowned her depression in chocolate cake.

I guess you could say she was a bit of an influence.

This was a bit of a short entry but not everything can be as long as my dick.

Sorry. Penis jokes.

The humor is kind of  hard to understand.

Okay I'll admit, that one was pretty shitty.

Anyway, I'm just going to go to bed. I guess I will-- maybe-- be filling a few more pages in you tomorrow.  That is, if something remarkable happens at school. Doubtful. "

I let out a signlh as I close the journal up, looking at the plain light brownish cover. I will have to do something about that. It takes me a moment to realise that I'm still in my mother's room. I stand to my feet, the journal clasped tightly in my hand as I walk towards the bedroom door.

Almost right before I walk out, I turn back to see something small reflect the moon's shine. I walk over towards it.

My mother's pendant.

I use my free hand to grasp it from its place on the old nightstand.

I take a moment to study it before sliding the cool metal over my head, letting it hang from my neck, stuffing it underneath my shirt.

I then exit the room, walking down the hall to enter my own. I close the door behind me and shuffle my feet towards the bed, tossing the booklet onto my computer desk that stood next to my small framed bed.

I let out a huff as I fall into the warmth of the white comforter, letting sleep take over my body and mind.