The itch to relieve my pain is growing stronger now than ever. The involuntary twitch in my hand to punch something made of glass is almost constant.
It’s impossible to give in to the craving though, when you have three pairs of eyes watching you at all times. The boys haven’t left my apartment for two days, and I have a feeling they’re not going to leave anytime soon.
I’m not allowed to leave my apartment now, until I gain more weight. Management doesn’t want the press to gain any sight of my newly thin body, and create rumors which we all know are true. I’m not handling it well, and I think it’s become quite obvious by now.
The boys keep apologizing, saying that they should have paid more attention to my state the first month, and should have been there for me in my time of need. I told them I understood though, because they had to grieve as well.
I don’t need any babysitters. But it looks like I’m stuck with them from now on.
The boys and management haven’t allowed me to leave their sight within the last twenty-four hours, making sure I eat everything that’s on my plate and keep it down. It hurts my stomach and I don’t know how much longer I can take the pure torture of eating food. It tastes so bland and though my stomach rumbles for more I just can’t bear more than a mouthful.
I’m so hungry, but I can’t bear the thought of food. They try to make me eat, but it just won’t stay down. I’ve lost weight. A lot of it. Everyone’s noticed, and it’s hard to hide.
I also fainted today in the studio, and now people are becoming a bit worried. I’m fine though. I really truly am fine. I’m just not hungry.
Jag vet att det inte har kommit upp någon del på snart två veckor. Men sanningen är att det var inte för att jag inte orkade utan för att jag faktiskt inte har kommit in på blogg.se. Jag har försökt varje dag men då stod det bara att det var något fel i systemet och att jag skulle försöka igen senare. Men nu är denna del iaf uppe. Så nu hoppas jag att jag kan komma in resten av veckan så att det blir en del om dagen.
There’s a bandage around my hand now, and I don’t like it. I want to be able to see the scars, and trace my fingers along the creases I had made. To me they are beautiful, a wonderful symbol of my struggle of moving on from the past. But the boys just don’t understand.
They’ve been watching me nonstop, not allowing me to do anything myself or go anywhere myself. I’m becoming suffocated.
I felt the rush today. It felt nice, and I watched in awe as the blood oozed out of my hand, the glass shards of the bedroom mirror shattered at my toes. I don’t know what had snapped in me, but I just couldn’t bear to look at my reflection any longer. So I punched it, harder than I have ever punched anything in my life.
The pains of the cuts were only temporary, and I soon felt a wave of ecstasy come over me. I liked the feel of controlling my own pain, instead of it being planted on me for once.
I was in the middle of dabbing the cuts clean when Liam walked in, saying he had heard a crash when suddenly he stopped, and stared at my hand. He stared at my hand and then the shattered mirror and then my face. I think it came off as a bit odd that I was smiling, but he immediately dragged me out of the bedroom, forcing me into his car and driving me off to the hospital.
I guess that up until now, I have had this thought in my mind that you were coming back, and that this was all one huge terrible nightmare I was having. I could wake up at any moment and you would be lying next to me, smiling like you did every morning.
But I’m starting to realize that you’re not going to come back.
Today I didn’t even know what to do with myself. I think the boys knew that I would want to be alone, so I wasn’t bothered with texts or phone calls, and nobody stopped by our flat to see if I was alright. I appreciated it, though it’s probably because they were mourning on their own as well.
I spent the entire day sitting in your favorite chair, staring blankly at the television as I drank the pain away. Three or maybe four beers max, and I was dropped on the floor and crying my eyes out. The pain of reality just sort of… hit me.
Today the boys and I spent a day of silence in your honor, refusing to answer any calls or text, or even just talk to each other. It was pure silence. It wasn’t an uncomfortable one though; it actually felt a little nice. We lounged around yours and mine flat today, putting in your favorite movies to watch throughout the day. We all sat huddled together, grasping onto each other as we cried our eyes out. Sniffles echoed throughout the room and tissues were crumpled into piles surrounding us. We were a sorry sight to see.
But needless to say, that was the closest I had felt with them in a while.
Tomorrow will be a whole month. An entire month since you’ve been gone and I find it hard to wrap my head around. It feels as though it was just yesterday you were full of life and laughing so hard you did that silly little clapping thing with your hands.
This is real, isn’t it?
When I emerged from my room this morning, I found Niall sleeping beside my doorway. He looked so tired and hopeless that I began to cry. I had done that to him. I had sucked the life from every single one of them. All because I was being selfish.
My crying then woke him up, and he gathered me into his arms. Niall gives great hugs, as you know, so I clutched onto him for a long time, not once hearing a complaint from him, or feeling him pull away. He cried along with me, and at that moment I felt closer to Niall than I ever had. I regret not giving him more attention before.
Today I spent the entire day in bed. I ignored every call and every text. Niall, Zayn, and Liam all came by at one point, pounding on my bedroom door telling me to open up and just talk to them. I began to feel guilty once again, putting them through so much pain. I just wish that the pain would stop.
I visited Cheshire today. I walked the streets for a long while, just inhaling the places you once walked into my senses, imagining that you were there with me, holding my hand.
After roaming the city, I reluctantly agreed with myself to visit your old home. When I arrived at the door, Anne welcomed me in with wide open arms, along with Gemma, who I struggled to pry off of me. I swear your sister has the upper body strength of a chimp.
We talked over tea, and I asked her how she was doing. They’re holding up the best they can Harry, but it’s hard for all of us. Don’t feel guilty though, they’ll pull through. It’s just me that I’m not so sure about. I’m the one who should be feeling guilty, and when I told her this, she refused to listen to me speak like that and that if I were going to put all of the blame on myself than I should leave.
I walked right out the door.
I don’t think she had expected me to leave, because I heard her calling my name through the front door, but I ignored her as I raced to my car.
I was crying so hard that I had to pull over on the highway, receiving blaring horns and cold stares as people passed by. But I didn’t see or hear any of it. All I could see was you. I could hear your voice talking to me, and that was enough to calm me down so I could drive the rest of the way home.
It’s been a while since I sang. But I sang today. We all did. It was our first day back at the studio, and let me just say that it sounds so different without your rocky voice mixed in with ours. We’ve had to change all of the songs. Niall and I have gotten most of your solos, but I just don’t feel right taking your parts.
I’ll never be able to sing them as well as you. Your voice was one in a million I swear. Whenever you sang the whole world just became a blur in my eyes, and all I could see was you. I’ve asked for a CD of all of our old recordings, but I know they won’t give it to me. Liam overheard me asking, so I know he told them not to.
But I still have YouTube available to me. Bless the internet. I’ve been listening to your voice all night, ranging from the X Factor performances up to our album. I’ll never get tired of hearing your voice, and it seems as though this is the only way I’ll be able to hear it anymore.
Sarah asked me about the note today. I don’t know why she’s kept quiet for so long. When she asked I just couldn’t hold in the tears, but I reluctantly handed her the crumpled up piece of paper. Is it weird that I carry it around with me? It’s like a fire burning a hole in my pocket, reminding me of the pain everywhere I go, but I just can’t let it go. It’s one of the last remaining things I have of you.
Therapy is absolute torture. I’m not getting any better. Sarah keeps telling me to give it up, and stop writing these entries because they’re not helping me. But I can’t stop. If I stop, I’ll feel as if I’m betraying you.
I can’t let you down again.
Eftersom att jag inte har fått en ända kommentar på 99 Days Without You så undrar jag om jag ens ska fortsätta med den eller lägga ner den helt. Och sedan så får det ta en månad mellan varje kapitel eftersom att jag inte har den tiden som det behövs för att lägga upp kapitel oftare. Så nu är det ni som bestämmer, vill ni att jag ska fortsätta att lägga upp 99 Days Without You eller inte? För om ingen ändå läser den så är det onödigt att jag lägger ner extra tid på att lägga upp den. Så nu är det ni som bestämmer hur de kommer att bli.