𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐍! | harry styles

𝐗𝐋𝐕𝐈𝐈

September 26, 2010

Dear Bella,

I know it's been a while since we've written. There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about, but it's not an easy subject for me to discuss.

The other day you asked me how my group therapy has been going. I told you it was fine. I always tell you it's fine. The truth is, it's been really rough. In the past I thought I was too good to be there, like I was better than everyone else. I understand now that's not the case. I've been speaking more, especially in the anger management sessions, about what I did both back in March and 12 years ago. Neither are easy to relive. I think I'll always have to be conscientious of my temper. Unfortunately, until I'm in a situation which calls for self-control, I have no way of knowing how far I've progressed. It makes me nervous. So much is on the line. It also makes me wonder if I have as much control over the other aspects of my life as I thought I did. All I can do is take one day at a time. At least I know I'm not alone. I have you and Michael and my friends at work. Everyone in my sessions is really supportive as well.

One of the counselors suggested I write a letter to my father. You know the drill, one of those "write everything that comes to mind because you're not actually going to send it" letters. I did it. The problem is that I don't want to send it, but I can't bring myself to throw it away either. I don't know why I'm doing this, but I'm sending it to you. You don't have to read it if you don't want to. I don't even care what you do with it. Keep it, throw it out, send it if you can find him—whatever you see fit as long as I don't have to deal with it ever again.

Thank you for everything you do for me. You make my life worth having.

I love you,
Harry

p.s. You still owe me a tub of Funfetti frosting, and if you think I'm going to forget about it, you're wrong.

* * *

September 3, 2010

Father,

A lot has changed in my life since we last spoke. I asked for your help. You told me you were sick of my bullshit and it was time I took responsibility for my actions. Well, I did.

I spent 138 months in federal prison—almost 12 years of my life. I was released on parole back in January. I'm clean and sober. I'm a manager at a locally owned music store in Seattle. I might not have fulfilled my dream of becoming a famous composer, but I get to work with instruments and I love my job. I even got to play for audiences over the summer. You are probably rolling your eyes right now, but I want you to know that I have never been happier than I am right now.

I'm not going to blame you for my mistakes, because they are mine. I take full responsibility for all the things I've done. My life isn't without its struggles, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.

With that being said, you were a shitty excuse for a parent. You made me miserable. You made Mom miserable. You were never there for me, so I shouldn't have been surprised that you didn't help me when I needed it the most. I spent most of my life wondering what I did to deserve your constant hatred. I always loved you because you were my father. Now I realize you were never worthy of my love.

I met someone. I love her and plan on spending the rest of my life with her. I could never lay a hand on her or my future children. I am no saint, but my ghosts pale in comparison to yours, and for that I am thankful.

You've never asked for my forgiveness, but I do forgive you. I have to in order to heal and move on with my life. Please know, no matter what happened in the past, I wish you nothing but the best in the future.

Harry