Dear Diary - Harry Styles -

My scars aren't visible to human eye. It's something only I can see. My battles aren't with people around me, but within me as we speak. Insecurities thrashing and whipping me left and right. Someone save me - Destinee Greene


4. Chapter 3: Suspicion

The feeling was becoming overwhelming, she couldn't handle the anxiety anymore. In fact, she wasn't even anxious, instead the feeling was replaced with utter annoyance and anger. How could she had let her diary out of sight? Just the thought of her book out there at night scared her. What if a homeless man came by and used it as a pillow tonight and awoke to have his drool all over it? The thought made Destinee cringe and sick to the stomach. 


For certain, today she was going to walk around and search every nook and cranny of this old forgotten town and find that book, even if it was the last thing she ever did. Destinee made a beeline towards the shower and hopped in, mentally going through the places she had been the day before.




On the other side of town, in the comfort of a hotel, a teenage boy was getting ready for the day ahead. His curls had yet to dry out completely but they were getting there. "Harry!"


He turned around to the sound of his name being called outside his door. Harry opened the door to see one of his best mates standing outside. "What do you want Niall?" his voice sounded aggravated, when he clearly wasn't.


The blonde boy pushed past him and sat on his couch, "You left this in my room last night."


He held up a small worn out book that looked quite like the diary he had found. Harry glanced around the room in search of the small book, but the only place he saw it was in Niall's hand. He went to grab it, but Niall pulled it away, "Harry, please explain to me why you had a diary with you last night. Do you not feel comfortable telling us what's going on in your life that you have to write it in a book that is obviously too hard to keep track of?"


The hurt on his face was clear. Niall had thought the five boys could tell each other anything without having to worry of being judged. He thought that they wouldn't keep secrets, clearly Harry hadn't felt the same way as he had.


"No, Niall, that's not what that's for." Harry hurriedly spoke while he snatched the book from the other boy's hand. "It's - It's a letter," he quickly made an excuse. If the Irish boy thought this was his, he obviously hadn't read it.


"A letter? Harry, it looks an awful lot like a diary." Niall narrowed his eyes at the curly haired boy with growing suspicion.


"It's like a letter in the form of a diary. I don't know, you might just have to ask the girl who gave it to me." Harry rushed out the words, not wanting to stay on the topic much longer in fear that the blonde boy would ask more questions. The book was his secret and his alone. If any of the other boys found out about it who knows what would happen. For all he knew they could fall in love with his "Dear Diary" girl as well.




The streets were cramped with people who wanted to get to work or to school. Destinee pushed through the crowd desperately to get to the one place she hadn't looked all day. Her bench, the old rusty bench that no one payed attention to. The one that had her name carved into the edges from when she just moved into the town. The only bench in this whole town that she was certain no one liked to use.


When Destinee reached the bench, her hopes vanished. Her little book wasn't on the bench, it wasn't in the coffee shop, it wasn't in any of her classrooms, it wasn't anywhere in this godforsaken town. 






Dear Diary,


Every day I think to myself, "What if". It's not like I'm unhappy with my life, but I just wonder what it would be like if it had gone differently than it is going now. I wonder if my mother would have let me audition for a singing show, if it would have made a difference at all. Would I be sitting here with a diary? Would I even be in a University at all?


I kind of wish I would've had an opportunity to try to audition, but then again my voice isn't exactly cut out for competition. Besides, the thought of me even being known in that kind of way is strange, I can't even imagine myself famous. 


Fame; can fame really change someone, Diary? Can someone's fame really make them as big-headed as people say in the movies? Can it make you only care about yourself? If it does, I want nothing to do with it.





P.S. I am in a rush today, so I can't write as much. 






Dear Diary, 


Screams, lately that's what I've been thinking about. I see people walk by me every single day and each of them either hold a smile or no expression at all. It's making me wonder if underneath those smiles and non-existent expressions, there's a person screaming for help because they can't do it out loud.


Many people take to self-harm and suicide, while others keep to themselves and don't think about it at all. They let themselves be pushed around and they don't care, they just don't care at all


So many people are labeled as freaks, geeks, and many other names because they want to be themselves. If someone wanted to just be themselves they could be ridiculed and made fun of because of it, and that sickens me. When did the world become such a cruel place? When did we stop caring that our words hurt the people around us? Why did we stop caring?


I just can't believe that we have gone so far as to make fun of a person who is expressing themselves in their own way. It's a sad thought really. We as people should be getting along and encouraging each other and doing things to make someone feel welcome, not make them outcasts in our civilization. 


Every time I walk near someone or pass by someone, I can just hear their screams. It's like their 10 feet under ground and no one wants to dig that deep to save them. 'It takes too much work', 'It's not worth it'. Excuses, excuses. Well, in my opinion, I'm sure if we all helped to dig them out they won't be dead by the time we get to them.




A very annoyed Destinee




Harry shut the book and sighed, just reading her words wasn't good enough for him. He loved rereading her opinions and thoughts, but it wasn't the same as it would be if he heard it coming from her own lips. Though, necessarily people with diaries don't usually voice those opinions out loud, it would be nice to at least here her voice.


Niall was sitting across from Harry, completely confused with him. Why the hell did Harry get so secretive about the damn book? Niall didn't believe Harry when he said it was a letter. I mean, who writes a letter in a book? Well, maybe a few people do, but the way Harry said it made it sound like he was hiding something. 


Harry looked up at Niall and wondered what his bandmate was thinking about. Niall narrowed his eyes before sitting up, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring at Harry. 


"Harry, who's Diary is that?"


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