Dear Harry

Sage Marrow, one of many fans of One Direction. Living in the mind of a depressed girl, she writes letters to Harry, finding it comforting. And though she never sends them, she can't help but hope that one day he'll read them.


2. December 20, 2013

Dear Harry,

I scratched again today.

Now that may seem like nothing to you. Scratching is just something you do when you get itchy, right? Well, not necessarily.

I do it for the pain. I scratch until I'm bleeding, and I still don't stop.

I know it's self harm, and I don't know how I got here. I kind of want someone to notice, to help, but the only thing people generally know of is cutting. So when I tell them that I fell and scratched myself, they nod and act like it's completely normal.

Because to them, it is.

During school today, I was in my last class, and these girls walked up to me. They're the popular girls. The preps. The mean ones.

Atleast to me, they're mean.

I was sitting by myself at a table while we all waited for the bell to go off. They had come up to me and grabbed my phone. I had set it on the table, and was listening to music. Anyways, they took it and 'accidentally' dropped it, cracking the screen.

But I was brave. I didn't cry like I wanted to. No. Instead I picked it up, put my headphones back in, and turned my music back on (I was listening to you guys by the way). I didn't show any emotion, and made it seem like I was ignoring their laughter.

So now my phone is cracked; thank god it still works though.

But I didn't cry, Harry. I was brave.

Actually, I used to be friends with those three girls. We used to be best friends. So yeah, I used to be popular.

But that's a story for another time.

Do you know what one of the worst things in the world is? Remembering.

Remembering anything is what causes more pain. Because you can't force yourself not to remember anything. Even remembering the good things that happened can be bad, because then you'll miss how good you felt, and realize that that time is over.

I hate remembering.

And that's also why I hate the quotes that have something to do with living in the present and forgetting the past. Because you can't forget the past, so a part of you will always be living there, and there's absolutely nothing you can do to stop that. You're always going to remember, and therefore you'll always go back to that place, good or bad.

Did that make sense?

Anyways, I think I'm going to end this letter. It's Friday, and I promised myself that I'd have a Disney movie marathon with me, myself, and I.

Gosh, I sound so pathetic.

So, always remember that I love you. I love all of you. And even though it's hard to believe, I love you guys more each day. But you know what?

Even the universe expands.

I love you,

Sage ❤️

I smiled at my second letter, feeling a sense of satisfaction with what I had written. This one was longer, taking up four pieces of notebook paper. I finished coloring in the heart I had drawn and quickly folded the papers, sticking them into an envelope.

I took my perfume and sprayed it, before sticking it in the box with the first letter. Strangely, I felt proud of myself for writing these. I felt like I could finally open up to somebody, and even though Harry could never read these, I couldn't help but feel like one day he would.

If he did, I would finally open up to someone completely. Just like my mom and my counselor wanted me to.

I haven't told my counselor, Amy, about the letters. I just told her that I wrote. I feel like if I told her who I wrote them to, she would end up telling my mom, and my mom would read them.

Yeah. No happening.

Setting the box in my closet, I walked downstairs into the kitchen where my mom was sitting on her phone.

"Hey mom," I said, getting the ice cream out from the freezer.

"Hey," she said, barely glancing up from her phone. "Whatcha going to be doing?"

"Watching a bunch of Disney movies."

"Again?" She asked. I nodded while trying to scoop the ice cream out of its container. It was solid and hard to get out.

I heard mom sigh from where she was sitting. "I wish you wouldn't spend so much time in your room, ya know?"

I nodded, finally getting a large chunk of vanilla ice into the bowl. "I know, mom."

"Well," she paused. She sounded unsure, like she didn't know if I would react badly to what she was about to tell me. "Noah is coming over tomorrow. The heater needs fixed, so..."

Noah was her boyfriend, and I absolutely hated him. He was nice and treated all of us right, sure, but I hated him. I hated how he was so nice. As strange as this sounds, I wish he would be mean to us. Well, just me.

I guess I felt like he was trying to be our dad. As much as I hate my dad as well, I don't want anyone to replace him.

And I think I just realized how confusing I am.

"When will he get here?" I asked emotionlessly. "And how long will he be here?"

I needed to know so I could avoid him.

"He'll probably get here around 10 tomorrow, and stay all day."

"Great," I said stiffly, with a hint of sarcasm in my voice. "Well, I'm off to my room for the night."

"Okay, fine," she sighed, putting her attention back onto her phone.

As I headed back upstairs, tears threatened to come out of my eyes, but I refused to cry. I hated crying, as it made me look weak. Even when I was by myself, I didn't want to look weak.

I shut my door behind me before grabbing my laptop from my bag. Going over to my stack of Disney movies, I picked out Tarzan, my favorite since I was a little girl.

After I got everything set up, I turned off my lamp and cuddled under my blankets, waiting for the advertisements to end and the movie to start.

It was 4 in the morning, and I had watched about 6 movies. The last one I had watched was Tangled, another favorite, next to Tarzan. But I was tired, so I closed my laptop and set it next to my bed.

I had my iPhone on its dock, setting on my nightstand. I played some music softly, before laying back on my stomach and closing my eyes.

And just like every night, I started imagining scenarios that had no chance of happening, to help me fall asleep.

And maybe if I was the least bit lucky, a similar scenario to the ones I come up with would actually happen to me.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...