Monday June 17, 2013

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Dear Zayn, 

     I can't wait until therapy is over. I don't know when that will be, but I sure do hope it is soon. I'm better, aren't I? I haven't hurt myself. I haven't hurt anyone else. I'm perfectly fine. Apparently not everyone else thinks this because I had to drag myself out of bed to go to therapy again today. With just Ms. James. I didn't think it could get any worse than that, but of course the world is out to prove me wrong. I know that the doctor called her and told her not to let me think too hard, but of course, since she hates me, she didn't listen to them. She asked me what we did on our first date. 

      The answer was simple, we went out for ice cream and then you took me home. You kissed my cheek, and I know that I couldn't stop smiling as I crawled into bed. Then she asked me what I did the next day, and when I couldn't remember, she yelled at me to think harder. I tried to tell her that I wasn't supposed to, but she didn't listen to me. She threatened to ruin my whole life if I didn't think harder. I don't exactly know how she could ruin my whole life, but I knew she was serious, so I tried to think harder. I came up short, and she didn't like that so much. 

     She started yelling at me and screaming to think harder while she threw things from her desk at me. I curled into a ball just before my shoulder recieved a smack with a stapler. I think I was crying-it was hard to tell-but I do remember begging her to stop as I tried to recall the day after our first date. It was just after she flung some pens at me that my head started to ache, and I just collapsed to the ground. She started to freak out because I was crying and clutching my head and she didn't know what to do. 

     You'd think she would call the doctor, or at least an ambulance, but no. She started to pick up the room to get rid of the evidence of what really happened. By then I had managed to get into my bag I brought with me and get my medicine out. I took the pills dry, and as she finished tidying up her desk, the pain in my head had subsided. We didn't say much after that, but just before I left, she gripped my arm really tightly and told me that I would regret everything if I told anyone what had happened that day. 

      Does telling you this count? I sure hope not because I don't know how much more pain I can handle before I actually start doing things to myself. If you did it to yourself, than does that mean I can, too? If you didn't want me to do it, then you wouldn't have done it to yourself, right? I'm so confused, but the more I think about it, the more my head spins and the pounding starts to come back. So I'm not going to dwell on the thought anymore. 

     I don't know what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. I had everything, you, your love, your support. Now I have nothing. You gave me a reason to go on. You gave me a reason to try and prove people wrong when they said I wasn't smart enough to succeed in life. You gave me everything I could have ever asked for, and I was the happiest person alive. You loved me even though I wasn't smart like you. You could have dropped me because I have hideous scars on my face. But you didn't. You stayed by my side and remained faithfull. You defended me against mean people. You made me feel oh so much better about myself. You loved me when I couldn't possibly love myself. 

     And now you're gone. I don't have my rock anymore. I don't have someone to love me. No one to defend me. Why must I go on when no one will ever love me the way you love me? No one could ever take your place, Zayn, and honestly, I don't want anyone else to. I just want you to come back into my life and pick up like you never left in the first place. I could pretend these last sixty nine days never happened. We could go back to how it was before. 

     Who am I kidding? You're not coming back. There's no reason for you to. All that waits for you here is a boy with ugly scars and a messed up brain. All that's waiting for you here is a boy who takes therapy and hates it. All that's waiting is a boy who's really clingy and annoying. All that's waiting is a boy who's wished over and over for something that will never happen. All that's waiting is me, who's tried to fill your spot with a cat. 

I love you, Zayn. 

Sincerely, 

Niall

Sincerely, Niall   [z.h.] ✔Where stories live. Discover now