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"I'm stuck here with you.
Tell me it gets easier."
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Easier by Mansionair
Sometimes in regrettable flashes, I wish to block all bad emotions out. I wish to forget chunks of time, completely erase whole entire moments from my life.
But I know that's not what I would really want.
I actually fear about forgetting about those moments. I'm scared I'll forget all of my moments really.
I'm talking about the small ones.
I'm talking about the first time I glanced over to Harry just to see him already looking at me.
Or talking with Drew over FaceTime first thing in the morning while we eat our breakfast together in two separate apartments.
Harry painting my nails.
Dancing with Jax in a foggy underground club.
Harry gently grabbing my face for a soft kiss while we're having sex.
All of the small, drunk, blurry memories that will become my 20s. Cold leftovers, pretty lights and cool parties, rooftops, the noise of the city, uncomfortable shoes, all things that will one day remind me of being young.
It's an indescribable feeling knowing that you're in a phase of your life that you'll one day miss.
And I'm scared I'll forget it.
So I journal. In hopes that in ten years from now I'll be able to read back on seemingly normal days of being 20, of exactly what I was feeling. Maybe I'll be able to show it to my kids one day, or do a cool biography when I'm super rich and famous.
Maybe I'll be married to Brad Pitt or something, and I'll write a book about my life. This journal is going to be useful then.
Or maybe, I'll keep it locked in my closet buried in a box with dust collecting over it. Whenever I get a chance from the simple life I've built for myself, I'll open it up again and read about Harry and I.
I'll read about all the small moments I've forgotten about.
I'll read about how hopeful we all were, how much fun we had making music, and it'll make me smile.
So even though, I fight the urge to burn this book every day, I know it will be worth it.
Because even though I know there's some things I'll never forget, like that specific shade of green. Or the smell of my floral perfume that will always remind me of this stage of my life, or the sound of Niall's laugh, or the ashy blonde of Jax's hair, or Drew's welcoming hugs, I know I will forget things.
That's just how life goes.
I'll probably look back on this and roll my eyes at all the mistakes I'm watching myself make.
I wish I had her insight. Future me.
Because I could really use some fucking advice right now.
I begged Jax, pleated like a pathetic lost puppy for him to choose me. I mean I practically dropped down onto my knees trying to get him to love me the way I loved him.
I told him every emotion that I was feeling hoping that it would be reciprocated, and it never was. It was always some thinly veiled phrase of hope. I showed him my tears and all he did was gently wipe them away and show me to the door.
I promised myself I wouldn't let someone know the effect that they had on me like that ever again.
I tried telling him everything that I could think of. Every poem that I saw, every love song that I heard, I presented it to him praying that he would finally want me the way I wanted him.
I just embarrassed myself.
I won't do that again. When I gave Jax the ultimatum of right now or never, I knew what he would say, and yet I still gave him the option hoping that he would pick me anyway. And when I walked out the door I made a silent promise to myself that I wouldn't do it again.
Then, like a lame cheesy action movie, Harry came walking out of the rubble that was my perception of love with a smirk and not a speck of dust on him.
He walked into my life that night on the rooftop, and he hasn't left since.
He just creeped his way under my skin and I can't get him out. I can't shake the thought of him.
It was just so simple when we were having fun, because the question of why do I want him around, was because it was fun. We were having fun why wouldn't I want him?
And the moment I stopped having fun and still wanted him around it poisoned everything.
I poisoned everything.
I ruined it.
I couldn't bulldoze the wall I had built up in fear of getting the same reaction I got from Jax. I didn't ever want to look at Harry the way I've looked at him.
I'm just scared he'll say the same thing, that he'll leave me with a warped image of our relationship because of one sentence.
So I stay quiet. I do the exact opposite of what I did in my relationship with Jax, and I still fucked it.
Isn't that funny?
Maybe I'm just not meant to be loved in that way. I clearly repel it, so maybe it's just mother nature doing me a favor.
But the more I write about him, about his green eyes and those stupid little nicknames he calls me, the more I write down all of our little moments so I'll never forget them, I realize how badly I wanted us to work somehow.
No matter how stupid or childish it sounds, I wanted to stay friends who have fun forever. Now that I think about it, I guess I would've called it whatever he wanted.
I guess I just wish we could magically know what the other person is thinking so it would be easier.
It's like the thought of him seeing me the same way Jax saw me, is worse than losing him. Knowing he saw the pathetic girl I really am would kill me.
"Here's your soy milk shit." The British accent belonging to the man I'm writing about pierces through my distracted state.
He's being playful, but with a hint of coldness in his voice, like we're strangers in passing.
I bring the open pages of my journal to my chest, blocking his view from the emotion filled scribble.
I glance at the table seeing a plastic to go cup filled with light cream colored coffee. "Thanks."
The light pitter patter of rain kissing the window that I sit behind acts as a perfect background song for me and Harry's doomed relationship.
"I'm going to go wait for mine, then we can leave." He steps back waiting for my response before he completely leaves the table.
"Okay." I nod my head feeling like I'm speaking to a friendly waiter. Not someone I know.
Definitely not someone I've had intimate sex with.
I watch him turn around and walk through the crowded café. When I know it's safe to place my book back onto the table I do so. Repositioning my red colored pen in between my fingers, I begin spelling out things I could never say out loud, like the little coward I am.
It's been exactly 3 days since our fight.
And it feels like we're a whole lifetime apart. There's just this void that's slowly being filled with everything we're not saying to each other, and it's just getting bigger and bigger, and it lives directly in between us.
I've been sleeping in his bed. But I've actually been getting up and leaving the house in the mornings.
It's not that I magically feel better, it's that I know I should probably be getting back to my own apartment pretty soon, especially with how things are going with me and Harry.
We've even had small talk. But it's polite, like we accidentally bumped into each other at the grocery store.
This is almost worse than if we did hate each other.
I feel like we're getting closer and closer to being strangers.
"Lace, come on let's go." Harry's voice shouts out from behind me.
I shift around in this uncomfortable wooden chair. Harry stands with his hand on the all glass front door, patiently waiting for me.
I turn around scrabbling to close my cursed book of emotions. I grab my purse and coffee, rushing to a standing position. I step up to him, having to take a deep breath with how flustered I feel.
"Here." He grabs my purse from me before pushing the door open. He of course stands back, always insisting that I walk out before him.
I look at him for a lingering second. Even though he's not looking at me, I smile softly. "Thank you." With my now free hand I pull my hood up to protect my hair from the rain.
I walk out onto the wet sidewalk, and I wait for him to return next to me before we continue down our path to the studio.
I cherish this small moment of normalcy in between us.
"We're working on Everlong today right?" I glance over to him, trying to split my focus in between keeping up with his fast pace and listening to his answer.
I actually know the answer I just asked anyway to hear him speak. That's the kind of embarrassing shit I promised myself I wouldn't be doing anymore.
But I guess as long as he doesn't know about it, it's alright.
"Yeah." He nods his head. His black hoodie hides most of his side profile, but he seems quite focused on getting to the studio as quickly as possible.
"You excited?" I keep on dragging this conversation out, like I've cornered a coworker into a conversation at the community printer.
"I am actually." He kind of grins, seemingly lost in the thought of music. "Are you?" He finally looks to me with a spark of an actual conversation at hand.
"Well now that we're doing it on an electric guitar, fuck yes I'm excited."
We had a group meeting yesterday about the song. We all collectively decided that although the acoustic version of the song is beautiful, it doesn't really go with the album. So we're going into the studio today to record the official demo.
Harry thinks it should be a single.
Drew thinks Harry should have a name for the album already. He really didn't like that for some reason.
Got almost defensive about it.
Me and Jax stayed out of the way.
"That's good." He once again gives me a simple cold unfamiliar response.
My shoulders relax, like my whole body sinks into itself. The clouds that rolled under the sun casting a shadow over New York City really picked the perfect mood for today.
Gray.
I easily spilled my heart over several blank pages. But yet when it comes to muttering a word of honesty to Harry, I've suddenly drawn blank of words.
I'm sure that girl he spoke with all night was full of words.
I decide it's best that we don't force ourselves to have friendly conversation with each other.
This is a new reality I've never experienced before. Jax and I were either at each other's throats, or we were kissing on each other like nothing was wrong.
But then again I should probably stop comparing the two.
But at what point do you stop learning from old experiences just because you're dealing with something new? It's still a lesson you learned. You don't forget everything once you meet someone, experiences stay with you teaching you how to react.
The more I think the more I just feel like screaming until my throat aches.
I hope some future version of me isn't reading my journal right now, thinking to herself "Oh wow, this is the part where Harry and I just fizzle out. I wonder what he's up to now?"
I think that future me would still be sad reading this part. Even if she's claimed to have moved on, I think the smallest sliver of her soul will yearn for him still.
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Finally made it to chapter 50 queens
Kind of a small filler so that the next chapter makes more sense <3