Dear Harry,
Ten days. In ten days I'll be eighteen. I'm gonna make it, I know that now. I wasn't so sure before, but now that I'm writing you these letters I know I am. It's so odd, I feel almost as if you're here with me and I'm talking to you insted of writing a silly letter.
I was listening to Diana today, and it made me cry because I know you care so much. I even imagined that you had written the song for me, and for a few minutes I was happy. I truly was. But then I remembered that you don't know who I am. You don't even know I exist, and so I cried again.
I feel like I cry over you too much. I'm just a silly girl with a crush on a superstar who'll never know who I am. At least that's what my dad told me today. He said I was pathetic for caring about you as if you were my boyfriend, and that hit me hard. I don't think you're my boyfriend, I'm not crazy. I know you're not my boyfriend and that you're this huge celebrity while I'm a nobody, but does that mean I can't care for you? You care so much for your fans and that helped me get this far, so how does he expect me to not care? You've helped me more than he has.
You know what? I might not make it to eighteen afterall.
Love, Florence.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Harry
FanfictionIn which a lonely girl writes letters to the boy she loves, the boy who doesn't even know she exist; to Harry Styles.
