Darkness is surrounding me. It lies like a thick blanket over my body. Some people would like the thought of something laying over them, keeping them warm and sleepy. I'm not one of them. I don't want to fall asleep; my dreams are haunting me like ghosts. I'm losing everything, everything I had, everything I wanted. I'm losing myself in these thoughts of desperation and self-hate.
Syringes penetrate my body, puncturing my skin with their sharp needles, torturing me with physical pain. Massive hands hold me down against the ground, scraping the skin on my uncovered knees. Skin is tearing apart, breaking from the force, making red liquid flow to the surface before unwillingly leaving its safe home underneath my skin to fall onto the ground.
Screaming doesn't make the haunting pictures of your past to go away. It only makes you realize how fucked up you really are. How mental you're going when you have to deal with nightmares that turn your whole world upside down. Instead of letting go you re-live them every time you close your eyes.


"Do you believe there's a heaven?" You had asked.
I had answered with a simple no, even if your voice had been so hoarse from not uttering a single word in a whole year. I think I hadn't really gotten into my head that you were actually speaking again. Your once strong and beautiful voice had turned into something so broken and fragile.
I still remember that moment like it was yesterday. You didn't say anything after that, you never let another sound leave that mouth of yours. You had left everything else unsaid. You made me realize that we don't need words to communicate. We just need to understand.
"Will you ever talk again?" No.
You also had a special kind of spark in your adorable blue eyes that would make anyone melt. I've never seen anyone with so much love and passion in their eyes as you. I could've drowned in them if you hadn't kept me over the surface. But when that spark slowly faded away and reality kicked in you made me promise that I would remember your eyes as the ones you could get lost in, the ones that were so hard to pull away from. I just wanted you to be happy. I would've done anything to make you happy.
Maybe it would've ended another way if someone actually believed in you, apart from me. Maybe you needed more people to see who you really were. You were always so insecure to say your opinion. In others eyes you were just shy, but in our eyes you were scared. You were scared to be judged, you were scared to let others know what's going on inside that head of yours. We were always worried about you, that you would break into pieces when you couldn't hold yourself together anymore. We saw all this coming and we were prepared.






Even in your twenties you were still that small fifteen year old boy on the inside. You were the youngest, the one we all had to take care of. Panic attacks would fill you to the rim, making you shake. But you never cried, you never let a single tear leave its place behind your red and puffy eyelids. They were there, but you never let them fall. I think you believed you would be stronger if you didn't cry. That it proved that you were a man. But you're not stronger if you're a man and you're not weaker if you cry. But you never understood that.
I remember one time when you were sixteen and I was nineteen. You woke me up in the middle of the night with tears pouring down your face. It was the first and only time I've seen you cry. Your sobs had echoed through my room and you were shaking like a leaf. Your skin had been so cold when you cuddled up against me under the covers. I had held you close to my chest and whispered sweet nothings into your ear, trying to make you forget about what had happened, even if I had no idea of what. You had told me how the walls were coming closer; squeezing you until you thought you would break. I didn't ask what was wrong, but how I wondered.


The feeling of being pressed to the ground by these grotesque men makes me want to disappear. Just vanish from the world. They're getting too close. Breathing gets harder with every second.
Do you remember when my dad left me? When I told you that it felt like the walls kept getting closer, squeezing me until I thought I would break? I would say that this feeling is quite similar.
My bones are breaking from the impact of their unfamiliar hands. Making me numb, making all my senses shut down. I can't feel, I can't hear and I can't speak anymore. I'm paralyzed from the fear of their familiar strength. Eyes wide in terror and panic. Breath stuck in my throat. Mouth shut tightly, afraid to make a sound that'll make them attack again. Attack my mind, the inside of my head.
Curling up in a ball on the ground, making myself smaller than ever before. Hoping they won't find the way to penetrate my mind. Face against the rough gravel. Cuts up my once unharmed skin. Nothing is like it used to be, everything has changed. Maybe it changed when his once friendly face turned into something so frightening. Eyes that stare into your soul. That can see your every flaw, making you cringe. Uneasy feelings that make you want to hide, but instead you're frozen on the spot. Unable to move an inch.


You had told me what had happened after a week of crying and sharing my bed. I came home after being at the store, to find you sitting on your knees in the middle of your bedroom, screaming and crying, pulling your hair in distress and panic. Clothes were thrown everywhere and everything on top of your drawer had been pushed off and onto the floor and glass from your shattered mirror surrounded you. Blood was running down from your wounded hands and your arms. You were scared. Scared and broken.
I had let you bury your head in the crook of my neck, moistening my skin. I rubbed your back as your sobs got softer and softer until they were nothing more than a few sniffs. Then you told me. Your dad had left. You told me how much you hated him, how much you hated your life and how much you hated yourself. You said it was your fault that he left, because you had to be in the band, because you had to be a little brat and because you were... you.
"It will be okay."
"Do you promise?"
"I promise."


Sometimes I wonder if I really am loved. If there's really someone out there that loves me for who I am. I always thought it would be amazing to be famous, that you would get chicks or even guys if you're lucky to say that they love you or think you're hot. But with the years I've realized that it doesn't really matters. What they say, I mean. They just say it because I'm famous and not because they truly love me. It had hurt in the beginning, fingers dragging against my flesh, tearing my skin open with their sharp nails. But with time it all subsided. Because at some point you have to realize that everyone won't love you.
Gripping tightly, fearing to let go of my dreams. It doesn't matter how big or small they are, just never let go. You'll regret it, just like I do. I wish I hadn't stopped chasing my dreams after he left. I wish I hadn't been so selfish. It's too late to change it now so I'll just have to live with it.
Trying to ignore the pain. It's too hard. It's too strong. I can barely stand, I can barely think. It's clawing at my insides, making me writhe on the gravel. I'm back with the men with massive hands, with their strength. With my body pressed against the ground. Memories flash before my eyes once again. It's scary, it's terrible and it's disgusting. Hands grabbing everywhere they can reach, not caring about the pain they cause by doing what they do.
I feel naked, like I'm completely exposed to everyone around me. Still I'm clothed. Eyes watching my every move, like eagles over their prey. Waiting for me to fall apart, to let them take me when I'm barely alive. Let them eat the flesh of my bones, leaving me as a skeleton in the middle of nowhere. Still no sign of calm, only stress, anger and hurt. Nothing but pain.


With skin against skin we move in a slow rhythm. We move together, like one. Pain that slowly turns into pleasure. Nothing can harm us now. Feelings of satisfaction as we creep our way to pure bliss. We move faster and faster. Roaming hands over sweat covered bodies. With nothing but passion in our eyes. Touching each other with gentle hands. Feelings grow stronger before we relax. Breath is hard to catch, chest heaving with exhaustion. But that's what we call making love.


I know you love me. I know you would never leave... and I can't wish for more.


Your back against my chest, hands intertwined. Breath slowly gets under control. The corner of our mouths curves up as my lips press against your neck. Breathing in and out as we hold each other close, you're afraid to let go. Afraid of the emptiness that will be created when someone leaves the bed. You were always afraid of being alone, abandoned, left out or pushed away. It happened to you once and I had prayed that it wouldn't happen again.


Flinching, eyes wide open. Nothing was supposed to hurt me. I had made myself believe in my own lie. Lies are terrible, we all know that. But how can such a small one hurt so much? The unsaid truth hides inside, tearing my insides apart. Leaving a bloody mess, staining my mind.
Nightmares crawl their way into my head, pushing down my already unstable wall for protection. I am not supposed to be this weak. Walls are breaking down, making me fall apart. No one notice though, I've learnt how to hide it, hide everything that can possibly hurt you.
Trying to disinfect my mind from everything that's hurting me. Trying to clean away all the stains of guilt and flaws. Imperfection that can't be seen, only felt by me. Imperfection doesn't always make you beautiful or different. It can scratch your mind, making you wish you were never born. Making you think in another way, a way that can cause harm, cause chaos in your head. Making your thoughts blend into one big mess that can't be undone.
I would like to say that I don't hate myself for being the way I am, but I can't. I don't want to lie to you anymore. I want you to know the truth, but it's stuck in my throat, making me choke. I've never wanted to lie, never wanted anything to be unsaid. But it's too late now.


Melting ice cream had run down your hands. You always wanted a cone, even if it meant you would get all sticky. We always tried to make you have a cup instead, like the rest of us. But you didn't have any of it. I had watched you, we all had watched you. How you kept licking your fingers and the palm of your hand. You didn't bother, you were used to it I guess.
The four of us could walk around for hours, if we were lucky we wouldn't get violated by fans. It had happened once or twice that we got touched in places only your lover was supposed to touch. It wasn't that pleasant, but we appreciate our fans, very much so. But one time the fans got too much for you and you started to scream. I remember it like it was yesterday... You fell to the floor with your hands over your ears, probably to block out the sound of too excited fans. Your scream was blood-curdling. Security came and made the people that surrounded us, go away and leave us alone.
You were shaking and you were whimpering, but you weren't crying. I would if I were you. I think everyone would've cried if they were you. In the end Harry had carried you home, since you were shaking too much. Your wide eyes looked around as we walked to our house, scared of anyone who got close. But out of exhaustion you fell asleep before we got to the door.


Blocking out every sound, everything that could disturb me. Scratching at my arms, making them bleed. It doesn't hurt, I can barely feel it. Short nails against my skin. Closed eyes and stiff body. Afraid to move and afraid to make a sound. Completely still on the floor, concentrating on breathing. Pain can't find me here. Not anymore that is.


We all knew that you never liked comedies. You liked drama. I could feel myself melt as you defended Titanic when Danny had said it was shit. How you became so angry at his words that you turned red. We all were proud of you when you stood up for yourself, since it rarely happened. I was always proud of you.
Do you remember when we cooked together for the first time? When we burned the first package of meatballs because we were busy kissing? It's still fresh in my mind. Hands traveling under shirts, lips fitting perfectly against each other. We had laughed so much at our accident, even if we made the fire alarm go off. Do you remember how angry Harry was? I do. I can never forget his face, how it first turned pale because he thought we were hurt and then red of anger because he had worried about us and that we'd ruined the food. A great memory to save.
I held you close to my chest. I can't believe how lucky I was to have you in my life. You wouldn't believe how happy I am to be so close to you. To feel your breath against my chest, your arms around my body. Your lips against mine, pressed together, filled with so much emotion. So much love. Fisting each other's shirts. Trying to get closer, if possible. Then you whispered;
"Never leave me."
"I won't."


Clawing, deeper and deeper. I thought I was safe. Their hands grasp my arms and legs. I'm too tired to fight against their strength. I'm too tired to keep the darkness away. I'm out of strength to carry on. I want you to save me. But I know you can't. It hurts. It hurts so much. During the last few years I've figured out that I'm broken. Broken beyond repair...


I really wish you'd remember those times instead of doing what you did. I wish there was something I could've done to change your mind. I would do anything to turn back time and save you from your misery. I wish I was enough to make you talk again. To make you utter a sound. We were all so worried about you. We wanted to help you, but you wouldn't let us. You were so isolated. So messed up. I read your letter. And then I let the tears fall. Fall like never before because it was my turn to let go. Quit being the strong one. The one who never cried.


I want to thank you. I want to thank you for being there, for being in my life and for loving me. But I'm at the end, I can't turn back now. I'm so close, I can even feel it. You have to realize that you can't help me. That I'm too fucked up. I'm actually crying while writing this. But that'll be our secret, so don't tell anyone. You're my shield. You know that right? I wish it doesn't have to end like this but I have no choice. I'm leaving. I'm leaving this world. Promise me you'll find someone to love. Promise me you'll move on. Please tell Danny and Harry that I love them. But Tom... I love you the most.


"I love you too Dougie."