Human [Harry Styles]

Chapter Thirteen.

Harry

            I’m elated for Marley.

            Really.

            I’m so proud of the fact that she’s managed to bounce back so quickly. She’s managed to begin taking the steps to help build herself up again, and even when she called, her voice sounded nearly chipper.

            The only issue for me is that I can’t say the same for myself.

            Maybe it’s just me being selfish, but I feel like since I had my major epiphany first, I should be on this so-called “road to recovery” first, shouldn’t I? Wouldn’t that only be logical?

            I want to be able to say that I’ve begun the same process, but it just can’t be so. Not when I don’t even know where to begin.

            I’ve already made up with the boys, for the most part, gotten them to see my side of the story, my perspective. Louis has my back pretty much one hundred percent now, which is really nice, but it hasn’t done anything for me, not really.

            To be honest, I’m just so tired.

            It’s that kind of tired that’s not just in your body, but also in your mind. Not necessarily being tired of life or living, but tired of what happens within your life. I don’t even know if that makes sense, but I still feel like I’m carrying this invisible weight around on my shoulders.

            I just want to know, why aren’t I getting better too?

            Before I can continue sulking in my thoughts, a loud ding echoes around my flat, leaving me looking towards the door, knowing that someone’s obviously come knocking.

            “Come in,” I raise my voice, not bothering to move myself from my lazy position on the couch.

            The door opens and Zayn pops his head in, smiling that crooked half-smile of his. “Hey mate,” he greets cheerfully. “Ready to go?”

            I frown, wondering where it is we’re going exactly. “Uh, where?” I question, cocking an eyebrow and sitting up a bit.

            Zayn only rolls his eyes at that. “The radio interview for Capital FM?” He sighs dramatically. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

            His ending statement comes out more like a dry statement, and I have to admit that either I was uninformed or let it slip my mind completely (most likely the latter).

            Raising an eyebrow, Zayn looks over my attire consisting of a plain while t-shirt and simple jeans. “It is a radio interview, so it doesn’t matter much what you wear,” he muses aloud before shrugging. “Come on, let’s go now or we’re going to be late. The others are waiting in the car.”

            With that, he walks out, leaving me to scramble to quickly grab my necessities before following him as well.

            While I do try to involve myself in the car chatter on the way, I still can’t help wondering what I’m going to do to help myself a little more, get on the same path as Marley.

            All the things I think of are too outlandish. Marley went outside to feels the glares and snide comments, so she turned that around and faced them all, holding her head high.

            The equivalent of that for me would be telling off haters online, like on Twitter. The only thing is that I know I can’t, not because I don’t want to, but because I actually can’t.