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*・゚゚・*:

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*・゚゚・*:.。..。.:*゚:*:✼✿✿✼:*゚:.。..。.:*・゚゚・*

   I want nothing more than to see him, but I know I can't

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I want nothing more than to see him, but I know I can't. For what feels like months but has only been a few days, I've done nothing but stay hunkered down in a hotel just down the street from Harry's. The bed has become my new sanctuary, sheets and comforter my protection, and listening to old voicemails from Harry is now a new hobby.

Listening to his voice is all I seem to want to do- the voice that used to be my solace.

I know that I'm only going to keep hurting myself by continuing to self induce the torture of going through old photos, videos, and voicemails, but there is a small nook in my brain that honestly believes doing this will erase the last memories I have of Harry's voice that are anything but pleasant.

Maybe if I keep putting myself through this, eventually when I fall asleep to the sound of his voice playing through my phone speaker, I'll no longer have nightmares of how vicious he sounded the last time we spoke.

At first I made it through all the pictures from the early days when there was nothing more to label us as than friends. I found a photo he didn't know I took of him one night when he came over to save me from my loneliness at Charles' house, and I found the photo I took when I fixed his hair to help him impress Taylor Swift.

 I found a photo he didn't know I took of him one night when he came over to save me from my loneliness at Charles' house, and I found the photo I took when I fixed his hair to help him impress Taylor Swift

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