Haunted Love / / Harry Styles

Chapter 5

It's the colors you have

No need to be sad,

It really ain't that bad,

It's the colors you have

No need to be sad,

You've still got your health.

Colours- Grouplove

To say that I am pissed off and tired is a total understatement. To say I'm angry as Satan, and tired like I just got shot, yeah that sounds about right. All night last night, I couldn't function to get a peace of sleep all because of a boy named Harry Styles. All girls around the world would probably just be imagining him there with them, and not being able to sleep because they are so damn imaginative. I, on the other hand, was having to control my anger because I over thinking everything.

Ever since I was little, I have over thought everything, and it caused me to have anxiety. The anxiety was horrid, and it was hard for me to control at such a young age. Eventually my dad got me therapy, but it's always still there, nagging at me that it will always come back. My anxiety caused me to have panic attacks, and I got them almost everyday.

When I was around age 4, I began seeing things in the corner of my eyes. It wasn't till I actually realized things were real, because I walked into a bathroom in an elementary where my preschool was at, and was met with a bloody janitor. To say people didn't believe me was true, because I didn't tell anyone. I was scared out of my mind, and only had the guts to tell my grandma that day. She walked into the bathroom with me, and I remember seeing her face practically drain of its color. My family has been able to see ghost for generations, and my grandma was praying that it would pass me up, but nope it didn't. Eventually my sister had began seeing them too.

My grandma explained to me that day, that it was okay to see them, and that I just needed to ignore them, and not talk to them. After that, I began seeing them little by little. I had to be peace at mind to actually just get a glimpse of them. By the time I was around eight years old, I began seeing splotches of figures. The splotches were like when you stand up too fast, and see different color of spots. I told my grandma, and she told me I just needed to not focus on them, and ignore it. That is when the panic attacks began to start.

Things were bad at home for me, and I was terribly frightened. I would come to school, and the principal would pull me in his office, and tell me I could hangout with him. He helped me out with some of my fears, but he never found out about what was happening at my house. My old school was about a hundred years old, and one time I took a peek in the basement window and saw a man in a black suit standing there in the middle of a room. I told my principal and he just explained to me that it was my imagination. He told me I had nothing to worry about, and then he said, "Why don't I take you down there?"

I remember him opening the door to it, and the walls were old, and stone. It was horrifying for me, but he turned the light on. He told me to walk down the steps and just walk around for a minute. It took me a while to go down, but I finally had the urge to. As soon as I turned into the first room of the basement, I saw two children running around. They took one glimpse at me, and then went back to playing. I remember I wanted to scream, but knew that my principal would probably see nothing. So I kept walking around, and I saw other figures, and it still gives me the chills today.

When I got home that day, I ran straight to my grandma's house. I explained to her all that had happened, and she was shocked. She was pissed off that my principal made me do such a thing, but then she realized how scared I was. She explained to me as I got older how to deal with them. I learned that I should never talk to one, and never act like I know it is there. She taught me to never touch a bone, or other wise I could get ghost disease. She also taught me to never touch an Ouija board, and many other things. I have found these things in handy, but it never stopped the panic attacks for a long time.