Haunted Love / / Harry Styles

Chapter 8

We just slept to the radio,

Gentle as my heat beats now,

Turn up the fuse all over again,

'Til I stumble upon your beautiful face,

Your presence isn't what kills me,

It's that artistic gleam,

That's taking over my scenery.

DNA- Empire of the Sun

She's Got Styles- Never Shout Never

Life is a stupid, unrealistic, proposition to man kind. We never ever get to choose what happens between us and the world. It's some stupidly naive, son of a bitch, and sometimes I would really love to punch it in the face. Life doesn't let you choose what you want to do, it doesn't let you choose the words that come out of your mouth. It doesn't let you think the way you want, especially when you're drunk. Life has to be so cruel, and gives you none only the truth, in a unwilling way. It's something that makes you put your middle finger up, and scream. Or punch a wall... Cause that's what I did.

This morning when I woke up, it hit me that I totally fucked up. I can't believe I did what I did, and it pisses me off even more. Waking up I realized that I had passed out from drinking to much alcohol, and that I had insanely done something that I promised I would never do in a life time. I admitted about my demons, and now I am totally and undesirably fucked. It came in like a flash, and my demons were eating me alive. I had let them out, the truth. And now I am totally freaking out. I can't even describe it, and it hurts. Harry got things out of me, things that I haven't told anybody that isn't close to me. He got me when I was weak, and I let him. Why did I let him?

When I woke up, I totally freaked out. I couldn't breathe, and I ended up knocking a bunch of paint cans around, and falling on my face. It felt as if the oxygen were being pulled out of me, and that I couldn't save my life. I told Harry about my demons, about hurting, about seeing my brother die. God, what did I just do? I ran around my studio not being able think straight. I couldn't believe I had done something so easily, that I can't even admit to myself. Harry then had comforted me! He comforted me, and I practically melted right into his arms.

Feeling pissed, aggravated, and totally hating myself, I ended up punching one of my walls. It hurt and now I have wraps around my hands because I ended up doing it more, and now my hand has wrap around it because of my cut knuckles. It was horrid for me, and it took me about an hour to calm down. I couldn't stop myself from crying, hell I couldn't even last night. I was drunk. Gettibf drunk has always helped me, but in this case, that's a big hell no. It made me do stupid shit, and I can't believe I have done that. God, I am so stupid it is unbelievable.

It took me a while to calm down, and after I did, I still couldn't fully do the process. Harry now knows somethings about me, and that could leave to pure and utterly disasters. He saw me break down, he saw me at one of my low states, and I fucking let him. I let the person that stood me up, into my art studio, and let him hold me. A man that I have only talked to for about a week, and he held me while I cried. Hell, I cried! I actually cried, and god it sucks. It sucks to know I cried, that I let the pain get me, that I came out of my numb state. I can not do that again, I will not let myself do that again. He held me while I cried, and even though I am pissed off at that, I am confused to why he did it. Harry Styles makes me pissed off, and can dig into my demons before someone can say-

"Ass." I turn around and watch as Ashton slaps Zach upside the head. I shake my head and stare out the window.

Currently, we were heading to the devils place. He just happened to have called Zach this morning, and told him he would be bringing Niall and Louis. Now, I am driving towards Harry's house with the annoying dweebs in the back of my bus, known as my best friends. Luke and Ashton have been at my apartment all day, and even were there when I got home at nine in the morning. They jumped on me, and then told me I smelt like alcohol. I laughed, but it was completely cut short when they asked about my hand. I came up with some lame excuse that I jammed them into a door, and they believed it. It's a good thing they can be idiots sometimes.