Until next time {H.S.}

7. I guess i hate me for it too.

AN: hey little tender enjoy this not super uplifting chapter sorry. I wanna give Roslyn a hug rn.
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"Look here's the thing, you smiled you did well obviously not you, you're always smiling your cardboard but Harry smiled, look haz can I call you haz?" I continue on ranting to the cut out while I lay upside down on my bed. "Did you smile cause it was dumb? Or did you smile cause you were laughing at me? I won't stand for this mockery." I point a finger in his face. "I said I won't stand for it!" Got up from my bed and walked to my dresser pulling out what I wanted then getting out of my room to the kitchen.

I don't over think often I actually have to stop myself from it a lot though. I usually only get in my head when I actually care. So what do I do when I care is, have a good smoke. I hate smoking the smell annoys me and it's bad for me. Over all it's not professional and just not good but what else is new.

  I pulled my jean jacket on shoving the box in my pocket. I hate the way it makes me feel like the blood I still can't scrub off my hands. I mean that's what the problem is the blood is on my hands after all. I grimaced as I walked out onto the porch. I pulled the box from my jacket putting the cancerous stick between my lips and lighting it.

   I pushed the smoke as far in my throat as I could blowing it out coughing a bit. I never said I was good at it just that I did it.  I watched the smoke travel up into the air and away. I lean on the wooden railing looking out at the stars only hours before I had been looking at with another.

  I hopped up onto the rickety railing and sat back against one of the beams. I pulled the notebook from the pocket in my jacket. I started sketching. I always found this became my outlet sketching. I'm not much of an artist but I guess this in its own way is another art form. I look once again at the stars taking another drag.

Now I was wondering if he was looking at them too. What a funny thing to think we all lay beneath these same stars. I never should have quoted Van Gogh that was a stupid thing to say. It was cool though going on a date with him I have to admit I enjoy it. I think I do quite well when I stop thinking about him as Harry styles and just think of him as Harry. If I think to much about talking to him I'd get all nervous but the moment I let the conversation flow on it's own, it was fine.

  I look back down at the crappy sketch. I'm happy Mackenzie isn't home she hates when I smoke. She kinda knows why I smoke and I guess I hate me for it too. So it's a win win. She cut me some slack tonight with the skirt thing because she knows how I get. I put the cigarette out once I'm done enough and continue sketching till I'm satisfied, I shut the book finally.

   I could feel the grimy feeling on my hands like the red was coating them now. I hate when these thoughts bubble up like this. I could feel the sting already behind my eyes. I brought my knees closer in need of comfort I wasn't willing to ask for. I don't know when tears actually started but I felt the cold trail of the wind drying my wet cheeks.

   "I'm really sorry. This is my fault. I'm sorry." I whispered underneath my breath look at the full moon tonight. It shone so brightly over me and Harry only hours prior. It's so funny what the stars had seen tonight. They watched me laugh, make jokes, bicker childishly, and now cry.

Oh how fast the night changes.

   A bitter laugh left my lips from the thought. I couldn't help but think if this was some romantic movie how someone would just know I'm upset subconsciously and call or show up. Thing is this isn't so I didn't get a call, that distracted me from my swirling thoughts that slowly drown me most nights. The guilt weighing me to the bottom of the deepest ocean like a heavy stone, while the pressure of the depth makes my head throb in pain.

   So there was no call where I'd answer and they'd ask if I'm okay and I'd be so distracted from my problems that I'd forget them completely and never feel sad again. That's just not reality. Reality is brutally honest to the point it shreds you to pieces. Reality is guilt. Reality is pain.

  No wonder most people say ignorance is bliss. It's much easier to be happy when your not paying attention. When everything is distant things don't look so bad, with a little focus and closer radius you can see the imperfections though.

  So instead of letting these bottomless thoughts (which are no where close to as good as bottomless fries) run ramped, I thought about what someone might say if they saw me right now probably along the lines of.

  "You should probably go inside it's cold out here." I'd probably reply with something sarcastic like "why do you care?" The bickering would probably go on till I gave up and went inside.

   I leaned back on my bed and the sudden thought came to me. What would Harry have said? My thoughts always scattered and lost track of themselves so it didn't surprise me the flip in thinking. I sat up quickly into a stand, putting my sights on a shower, I turned the water on and started to peeled my clothes off putting them into the wash bin.

   When I got to my shoes I couldn't help but hear Harry's voice almost clear as day say: hey look we match. Even thinking about it erupted fireflies in my stomach setting my insides aglow with warmth. I slipped my shoes off smiling at the stupid coincidence.

Once under the stream I let every layer break off me as I let the scorching heat relax my forever tensing muscles. I ran my hand back through my hair with a sigh. This is a safe space for me a distant reality in which I exist, only between dripping shower heads and a pain of glass. I felt my mind clear as I went through my routine washing the crumbling feeling, while watching the bubbles swirl around the drain and then eventually down it.

On nights like this in my lowest place this is where I found myself between sheets listening to the only person that clears my thoughts away. While I slowly unravel to the strum of a guitar and fall deeply away from this night.

I almost think for a second if there'd be a shift from now knowing the artist, but when the two earbuds full of music fills my ears I realize that the one thing in life that doesn't change is music, the one thing consistent for me is music.

No matter the people that pass through or the places I see a song is a song no matter the melody.

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AN: sorry my headspace is a little weird for this chapter but I hope you enjoyed it never the less.

Notice anything she said...:0

No okay ;)