Are you fucking kidding me Lou? It's bad enough you and that fucking twat grace the page of every tabloid, but you had to bring her to the fucking photo shoot? Our professional photo shoot for the fucking band? She's a fucking FLOOR MODEL Lou! She fucking folds clothes and greets the people coming through the door while wearing Hollister flip flops. I didn't know that made her qualified to show up like this was a fucking family picture session. She was stuck to your side like you were a pair of Siamese twins, I just don’t get it.
I don’t usually resort to name calling, I rarely even swear that much, but it doesn’t even make sense. It really doesn’t. I get it when she comes on tour with us to visit for a little while. You’re gone to another country; you miss each other, so she comes. BUT WE ARE HOME! WHY DOES SHE NEED TO BE HERE? It’s bad enough that she comes out to tour with us, leaves, and is back the next week like she needs to come and pick up her pay from you or something, but now she’s going to be around at our professional shoots? Don’t you live in the same house? She’s not a puppy, fuck, she couldn’t even be a puppy because they have cages that you can leave them in!
What pisses me off is that I know Liam and Danielle are more in love than you two. You can genuinely tell that those two are completely blissed out with each other. Yet, she doesn’t show up nearly half as often as Eleanor does. What the hell mate? The best part is that Danielle actually has some close relation to our field. If she showed up to our shoot I would be less miffed because she actually IS a professional model. Also, when Danielle came to visit on tour, she came ONCE, ONCE. She stayed with Liam, they loved up, she left and didn’t come back the following week. I get it she has professional responsibilities, but shouldn’t Eleanor too? Like, don’t you think she should be putting in some hours standing around and folding polos?
Does she even aspire to be anything? I haven’t heard her speak once of what she’s studying at uni. I mean is she even really attending? What the hell is she studying? Because the only thing she seems exceptionally well versed at is following you around like a lost puppy and they don’t teach that in school. Sure, she gorgeous, sure it’s socially acceptable for you to love her, but God it’s like you know and you’re just flaunting what I can’t have in front of me and I hate it. I hate it so much. I hate seeing you together, that’s why I moved out. I didn’t move out only to have your shitty heterosexual relationship and affection tossed in my face at work as well it’s like I’m not safe from it anywhere. I just can’t get away from it and it’s torture. It is torture. The worst kind of torture.
You see there’s physical torture, the one that cuts deep, literally, leaving bruises and scars. In some cases, it even kills you, but that seems so much more humane than this kind of torture, mental torture. If this is what solitary confinement is like, I no longer wonder why all of the guys on the telly go batshit insane while they’re in there. You’re left alone to your thoughts and not the nice ones. You’re left alone to think about every single mistake you’ve ever made, every regret you have and you get to sit and stew in it. Reliving every single moment that made you feel anything less than happy, even the slightly sad moments become monumental.
My life has become a type of solitary confinement, except instead of all the painful memories being on a continuous reel in my head, I get to see it in person. My personal torture gets to come to work with me every day in my brain and as my band mate. I am falling to pieces because instead of imagining you touching the small of her back I get to witness it and remember what it felt like when you would focus on me. I’m just so mad and it’s dreadful because I can’t even get mad without it coming full circle to some romantic thought about you. It’s like a bad movie scene from some romance comedy showing in the cinema; I’d scream and thrash uncontrollably, desperate for the affection and emotion, chanting how much I hated you; then finally it would all hit me and I’d collapse into a fit of tears in your arms.
And well, that’s when my shitty depressing thoughts become better than reality because I can’t remember the last time I was in your arms. It’s sick really, this whole dilemma. I’m pining over you and you’re, I don’t even know. It’s not like one of those cliché’s where I’m in love with you, but we’ve never spoken and you don’t know I exist. You know who I am, you are very familiar with me, we had a thing, whatever that thing was, but now, you’re treating me like a fan screaming your name off a balcony from 400 feet away. I feel dejected and exhausted.
Everything about this is exhausting. Missing you is exhausting. Being angry with you is exhausting. Hating you is exhausting. Avoiding you is exhausting. Hell, with the frequency I cry, I’m surprised that I haven’t started to evaporate. It’s just, confusing, and that’s exhausting too, being confused about you. Just because when we were living in the same flat, just being friends, everything was so easy and invigorating. Now I can’t think about your name without having to fight back the tears that start to burn and the sob that wants to come out of my mouth. It’s painful, in every way. It really really hurts and I really really need you and I can’t believe you left.
I can’t believe you left me. I can’t believe it. You bastard! How could you? How could you leave? God Lou, I need you so much it hurts. It hurts. It physically hurts. It’s hard to breathe it’s hard to walk. It doesn’t help that I can’t even close my eyes without seeing your face, so I just try to not sleep because I can’t handle seeing you in my thoughts. You haunt me. It’s like there’s no more oxygen in the world. You left and took everything with you. My heart, my sanity, my ability to love, my ability to trust, you just took them all. I hope you’re proud of yourself.
What really threw me off the edge was the fact that it was the photo shoot for our 2 year anniversary as a band. It was a celebration of our success, of us. If it wasn’t for one direction and x factor and all of this music shit, we would have never met, and now that sounds really amazing. Which is sad because even if I loved you romantically I loved you as my friend too. You were my rock, but you pulled away. We both pulled away if I want to be fair, but our friendship changed the moment you met Eleanor. You didn’t try. There was no “I told her we could go out tomorrow Haz, let’s just watch a movie” you just left, constantly. Then you brought her back home and took her to your room. It was a cycle I got tired of watching, so I withdrew and then I moved out.
Can you really blame me though? I think that I could have handled you having a girlfriend had you not completely erased me from your life. I wouldn’t have minded you bringing her home if at least once during the week you were interested in spending even a second of time with me. It went from Harry&LouHarry&LouHarry&Lou straight to Louis&EleanorLouis&EleanorLouis&Eleanor with no break or transition; it was just a cut, but not a clean cut. It’s like you were trying to cut a part of me off, almost got all the way through and just stopped and walked away. It’s still dangling there and it makes me feel hope, like there’s a chance that it can be repaired, but by the time it gets fixed, it’ll never be the same and even if they try to replace it, nothing will ever work like it used to.
Liam tells me constantly that I need to get over you and I don’t think I ever wanted to before, but I never had any conviction; now I do. I can tell that you don’t want me in your life, so I don’t need to stick around holding on to any shred of hope. There will be someone out there that wants me and even if they aren’t you, they will want me. Which makes up for any lack of wonderful that doesn’t make them Louis Tomlinson. I’m just going to use these letters to get out all the anger and all the hurt. When it’s all gone, I’ll go out there and find someone who can see how fantastic being loved by me is. You will never get to feel what it’s like to curl into my neck again. What it feels like to be small, but loved and protected. You’re missing out. You’re missing out and instead of feeling sorry for me; I’m going to feel sorry for you.
She’ll never love you like I did,
Harry
