Sincerely, Niall [z.h.] ✔

Thursday May 30, 2013

Dear Zayn, 

    I didn't go to therapy today. In fact, I haven't even gotten up all day. Nor all day yesterday. The pain in my body is just so unbearable, and I've found myself unable to even stand or sit up. Buttercup seems to understand, because she doesn't growl for food, she just licks at the wounds on my belly and rubs her face against my arm. Gosh how I wish she were you. 

     I've been thinking a lot about calling Louis and Harry or Greg, but I'm not sure if it's a good idea. They'll make a huge deal out of it, and I really don't want this to get to my mum and dad. They'd think I'm weak and pathetic, which I suppose I am. Plus I really don't want to have to talk to anyone else about it. It'd be embarrassing enough just being Louis or Harry. And now that I mention them, I really miss their company. Maybe when I get better and heal I'll invite them over, and we can have a big cuddle fest, and watch cheesy movies that they seem to always have a copy of. That's Louis and Harry for you, the two most dorkiest boys in the world, and yet, they seemed to have found one another and fallen in love. It's kind of magical, actually. 

     Anyway, I think I'm going to die, right here in this bed. I haven't eaten in over forty eight hours, and my stomach is grumbling so loud I'm afraid the neighbors can hear it. I wonder if everyone can hear it. I bet Buttercup is starving as well, but she's such a good cat and doesn't say anything about it. She knows I'm hurting. She knows I'm disgusted with myself. Maybe that's why she hasn't left my side for the past two days. Oh how she reminds me of you. 

     I've been doing a lot of sleeping, as well as a lot of dreaming. Most of the nightmares have gone away, but there's still some there, and it's awful. I dream about you cutting a lot, and even though I'm right there, begging you to stop, all you can say is sorry as you continue your actions. Why do you do that? Aren't I enough to make you stop? Don't you know that by hurting yourself, you're hurting me, too? Don't you know that you're killing a part of me as you hurt yourself? 

     Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever get the chance to ask you that, or if I'll forever be left hanging for the answer. Will I ever see you again? And if you do come back, will you still love me? Or will you have found someone new to love? I don't know if I would be able to handle it if you came back with someone else hanging on your arm, it would kill me. I think I'd rather you be missing forever than that to happen, my heart can't take that. But, at the same time, I'd give almost anything to see you again. To have you hold me again. To feel your lips against mine. 

     You've been missing for so long, these awful possibilities seem to be the only things that make sense to me now. You didn't get lost, you would've come back by now if that was the case, and you're not here. Maybe you were threatened to leave. If that's so, did you ever say goodbye to me? Was it when I was asleep, and you wept next to me when I was in the bed. Maybe you brushed the hair from my forehead and then gave me a little kiss to the head, your salty tears dripping onto my cheek. Did I stir when that happened and curl in more? Or did I remain motionless as you started to sob, covering your mouth and stumbling out of the room? 

     Or what if you wanted to run away with someone. Maybe one night while I was asleep, you called her up and chatted about how you couldn't wait to get away while you looked at my sleeping body. You'd tell her how stupid I was that I thought you loved me, and both of you would laugh. Then I'd stir, and you'd panic and quickly grab your stuff before booking out of the house. Was that it? I'm not sure, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense that you left me on any kind of circumstance. 

     I mean, just look at me. I'm not beautiful like you. I'm not smart like you. I'm short and thin, people can easily push me around. Maybe you were embarrassed to be with such a pathetic boyfriend that you left without telling me. Or maybe you left a note and I just haven't found it. But where would it be? I haven't a clue where, and right now I don't have the energy to search. As I said before, I can't even get up. 

      Everything hurts, Zayn. My head. My stomach. My heart. I need someone to help me, I've avoided it for long enough. I'm going to end the letter here, okay? You'd want me to call someone, I know that, so I'm going to do it. You'll understand why I'm leaving lines on the paper. You take care of yourself out there, alright? Even if you don't love me anymore. 

I love you, Zayn. 

Sincerely, 

Niall