One Direction Sad Preferences

Remember The Best

  I’m writing this because I don’t think I’d be able to tell you all of these things in person. I don’t think I’d be able to say these words and tell you these things without utterly falling apart and I don’t want you to see me that way. I don’t want to ruin the image you have of me—strong. I guess maybe writing this rather than saying it makes me ‘weak’ but I need to say this before I can’t anymore. The past few years have been the best of my life, really, they have. You boys…are honestly the brothers I never had. You’ve all meant so much to me and I know you all know that. You were shoulders to cry on, to lean on. You were there to listen and to talk and to make me smile and making you guys laugh and smile was my favorite thing ever—it still is. You all always said I was the funniest and that meant more to me than you can ever know. Making people laugh is my favorite thing because even when I’m in no mood for laughing knowing that I could fill someone with such joy was an absolute pleasure to me, you know?

  For the past few months, though, you’ve all surely noticed a change in me. Less laughter, less jokes, more tired. You’ve all been worried and I kept playing it off by saying I had a cold or I was tired from our over-booked schedule and maybe that was a little true but ultimately I’ve been hiding something. I’ve been lying. I wanted to tell you boys, I really did, but I knew you’d never treat me the same. You wouldn’t look at me the same way. You’d treat me like a piece of glass or something delicate, you’d cry and that’s something I never want to do. I never want to make any of you sad—my job is to make you all laugh.

  But I’ve got to break that streak of laughter, I’m afraid. A few months ago I was diagnosed with cancer. A really bad kind—but I won’t bother you boys with the gory details. Basically, I’m dying. Or by the time you’re reading this I’m dead. Shit, that’s eerie. Communicating from beyond the grave. That’d be really awful of me to leave without saying a proper good bye, no? Then again, I’m saying all of this in a letter. A really crappy letter…I know you boys all know I’m not the most educated and I’m not the best at writing things and I failed a lot of classes back during my school days but I hope this letter serves its main purpose—letting you all know what’s going on and how much you’ve meant to me.

  So, if you’re reading this it means…well, I’ll be blunt. It means I’ve bit the bullet, kicked the bucket, dropped dead. I told my mum to give you boys this letter once I’ve gone—she knew about the cancer and she’s probably the only one. I couldn’t bear to put anyone else through that kind of pain.

 I suppose you’ve all noticed I’d been wearing a lot of beanies—it’s not like I suddenly fell in love with them or anything, I was just trying to hide my hair (or lack of it from the chemotherapy). I figure I was a secret agent in my past life; I’m good at hiding things.

 You’re all probably a little angry or hurt that I never told you but please know it’s what I wanted, it was for the best. The last few weeks of my life have been, well, as normal as they could be. You’ve all treated me as you normally would with the exception of the worried glances and remarks about my tired and quiet states. It’s what I wanted. I never wanted to be considered “sick” or “dying”.

 I’m absolutely rambling in this letter, aren’t I? Well, my boys, it’s been a great life. I’ve seen all kinds of places and I’ve become much more than just a boy from Doncaster, you know? You’re the best friends a guy could ask for. This letter is for you four, I left others for my sisters and Stan and everybody…but yours definitely has the most tear-stains on the pages (I hope they didn’t smudge any words).