Love Letters to Sally || Louis Tomlinson

1.

1.

Do you remember the little saying you use to sing to others when you were a little kid,

'Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.'

Well wasn't that a big lie! Words do indeed hurt, they cut you and they scar you. Every single word that was spat at you permanently pokes at your brain until suddenly your brain's walls become paper thin and those words stab inside of you. Like an annoying sliver that was stuck in your thumb that you just couldn't quite squeeze out. Those words are now part of you, forever smashed into your brain, clouding your very thoughts day by day.

"Depression is an inability to construct your own living future." Says a man who goes by the name of Rollo May.

All I ever wanted was a happy, loving, carefree life. I had everything I could ever dream of! I met four of my favorite people in my entire life (before Zayn left in 2015); I got into a band with them due to the X-Factor. My dream of being a singer got bigger as the years progressed, soon we were selling out arenas, I was preforming in stadiums so big it made me feel lightheaded. I grew from a loving family, just a couple of years ago I got two new siblings. I had a loving girlfriend, I have an amazing band, and I have wonderful fans; so why now do I feel so terrible? Why do I feel as if I'm drowning and people know I cannot swim but still shout from the shore, "Just swim you idiot!" Why do I feel so miserable?

I have to laugh sometimes, when people are convinced that I am so happy. Everyone thinks I am that happy Louis that was always jumpy, hilarious and such a massive idiot. They think I have it all together and think that my life is just one perfect cotton candy pillow. What they don't know is that I am dying, yes; I Louis Tomlinson is dying. At least on the inside, but I'm sure people are starting to see the effects that are balancing on the outside of my body. One thing that is for sure is that I do not indeed, have my life together. I am falling apart.

Don't cry for me, I'm nothing to cry over when you find out my thoughts on my depression and my very own health. I am at the point that I don't even care if I die right now, in fact I would be better off just dropping dead right now; but somehow I managed to wake up this morning with a terrible hangover.

One year has gone down fast for me, Eleanor left me, the boys are probably going to leave me soon, my family doesn't even want to speak to me anymore; and the fans? Well, let's just say they still think I am that happy Louis and am on a very long vacation trip to God knows where.

Last year at the end of our 2015 tour that is when I fell hard. I don't know what hit me but this sudden need of sleep, this overwhelming sadness, this anxiety took over my body. I was in bed for weeks, not eating anything, not doing anything. The boys worried about me but I just blew it off telling them it was just the effects of traveling the world for six months straight.

Soon, the drinking became more frequent. I got drunk every night, it felt so good, to just let go and not give a damn about anything.

Now I lie here on my bed, in my lonely apartment. My bedroom door filled with different types of band posters and girls is shut closed; music quietly plays from my phone on my bedside table. The song, 'Remembering Sunday ' by All Time Low comes on, making me want to scream and shatter the IPhone against the blue of my wall, but I calm myself and stay sprawled out on my bed. I lie on my stomach, my feet tucked under the white fluffy pillows. All I have on for now are my plain black basketball shorts, it's chilly without a shirt but I don't mind the cold.

I'd rather be cold than hot.

Swallowing, I bite onto the top of the black inked pen that rests between my pointer and middle finger. There is black leather journal in front of me, my left hand holding the journal open. I bought this just about an hour ago, I saw it and just had to have it; but now laying her and staring at the empty yellowish pages with thick red lines upon it, my mind has gone blank. What was I supposed to write in this journal?

I look out my open window; the sun slowly starts to set making a pink and yellow color in the milky sky. The clouds spread across the dim sky, it's a beautiful scene.

I start to think back to my childhood, when I was just around the age of twelve; there was this girl. She had long, curly black hair and the deepest green eyes, almost an emerald color. Her eyes stood out from her milky pale white skin. She had the most beautiful laugh you could ever hear; it was music to my ears. She was a year younger than me, but we went to the same school and lived near each other on the same block. I had the hugest crush on her, I fancied her so hard my mum even knew and I would never tell my mum who I fancied. I asked her out one day but she rejected me, telling me that we were too young.

Her name was Sally Coy-West.

Sally was never really in my mind until this moment now. She was the one who was always there for me when times would get hard in my life until the X-Factor days.

I look down at my blank journal, and sigh. I begin to write,

Dear Sally,

Sometimes I don't want to fight my depression. I think letting it take over my life will make things easier, because being able to sleep all day, I can avoid my stresses and people who only remind me of a life I'm not strong enough to live.

Sincerely yours,
Louis Tomlinson

I reread the black inked words on the page and suck in my lower lip. I then add,

P.S,

I only write to you because I know you'd be the only one to understand my troubles.

Feeling satisfied I close my journal, tuck it under my bed, put on new clean clothes, grab my car keys from my bedside table and make my way towards my local bar.

{ Word Count: 1144 }