Dear Harry

You've been gone for two weeks now. I haven't been coping well. The boys have even sent me to a therapist to help me forget. But I can't forget. You're all I ever think about. Your luscious curls, the way you smile lights up a room, your green eyes that I love so much. You're impossible to forget. I don't want to forget.

Of course the boys are worried about me. I'm even worried about me. My therapist is worried as well, and that's why she has handed me this journal, so I can write down my innermost thoughts. I have to give it to her every week to read over, but I just feel so weird giving it to her. Most of my thoughts revolve around you, so I guess that's why she wants to read it over, to make sure I'm handling everything well.

But to be honest, I'm not, and yes I'm fairly aware she will read this. But the truth has got to come out sooner or later, yeah? She never specifically told me what to write, but just that I have to write. So I'm writing to you. Starting from day one.

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35. Day forty-five

I had a dream today, I saw your face. God Harry, I’m beginning to forget what you look like. Sure, I can look at pictures, but pictures don’t move, or laugh, or blink. They’re just captured memories. But my memories are beginning to fade. It may just be the chemicals pouring through my bloodstream from the various wires attached to me, but they’re just beginning to fade.
I can’t lose the remaining fragments I have of you.
When I awoke, I found Zayn sitting beside my bed, tears falling down his cheeks as he spoke softly to me. He hadn’t even realized I woke, and kept on speaking. I couldn’t hear him, but it didn’t matter.

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