#for 1d 'the boys' was pretty simple. think i along with every other stan just referred to them as that and so thats why i chose that

[rainingincale]

No one:

Me: so funny how the origins of many of my tags were very random and have ended up sticking and also influencing the tags i made afterwards-

[cherrystreet]

I wrote this directly after I left my first Harry Styles concert. My emotions were more elevated, and now that I’ve had some time to sit and reflect, I feel a little less raw. Keep that in mind.

I definitely got carried away, just needed to type it out, I guess. It seems a bit mad, and I’m slightly hesitant to post, but maybe someone else can resonate and understand.

Music does fucking weird things to you, man.

Warning: it’s pretty aggressive in terms of “I miss this fucking boyband so much, I cry about it,” but you all know.

It’s not just a boyband.

You get it.

I saw Harry Styles at the Chicago Theatre on September 26th.

Several people have asked me for an update.

First disclaimer: this is less of a concert play-by-play and more of a word vomit. About One Direction. About Harry. About the hiatus, the crazy shit it’s made me feel over the past two years, the future. All a bunch of nonsense - or maybe not - thoughts.

Honesty hour ensues.

Let me preface this by saying I’m grateful. So beyond grateful for all my experiences. I won’t take advantage of that. I never have. Never will.

One Direction holds an interesting pull over millions of people. Me included. I fell in love with them on a whim - it wasn’t intentional. I don’t understand it. I can’t make sense of it. I can’t explain to others why I’m so invested. But at this point, I don’t bother with an explanation. I love to love them.

“One Direction is broken up. You still listen to them?” The amount of times I’ve heard this. I’m homesick for people who don’t know I exist. Moderately crazy, but shows the extent of the soul this band put into their music and performances and relationships with each other. And us. I feel tied to it.

Is any other fandom like this? I don’t know. Nor will I ever know.

Anyone who knows me knows I’ve had a very difficult time with the whole “solo” endeavor. One Direction is the biggest and most important part of my early 20’s, and for it to stop so abruptly and without any closure has taken an embarrassing toll on me. My best friend and I have become sickeningly close during our travels - we’ve experienced seven shows together, one of which was out the country - and to me, One Direction concerts became a place to make some of our deepest memories that no one else can replicate, or understand. I met friends - my Rita - through this band. I met you guys. It’s been two years of wondering and waiting if and when they would make a return into our lives, and then. Instead. We got solo Harry. Full force.

I understand the point of the break. I get it. Overworked. Shit management. I’ve exhausted the topic in my own mind, and with others. Doesn’t mean I’m jumping for joy over it. I’m a 1d stan at heart; I support them as individuals, but when it comes down to it, my loyalties lie with the band.

I’ll be candid and real, which I’m often not on this blog. I initially jumped on the “1d went on hiatus because of Harry” bandwagon. My original logic: he said he was the one who initiated it. He was the one who had solid plans. Louis said he fought it. Niall said he wasn’t ready for it. And after closely paying attention to hundreds of interviews since 2015, Harry has clearly showed his gratitude toward the band - don’t get me wrong - but he’s the only one who hasn’t talked about a return date. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to give false hope. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t know and doesn’t want anyone to read too much into his words. Maybe he’s moved on. Whatever the case, I shied away from his career at the beginning and couldn’t get excited like everyone else seemed to be. It hurt my heart to see him so happy and thriving away from the pieces that helped him with his start, his life. Honestly, I know I would have felt hesitant about whoever happened to go fully solo first (Zayn doesn’t count - that’s a very different situation). Sure, Niall and Louis had singles out last year, but it’s not the same as embracing a new album, a new identity. It just so happened to be Harry first.

Second disclaimer: I hate that the band isn’t together, but I could never hate any direct member for that. Ever. No one is specifically responsible. And I know that.

My vision is clouded. Selfishly, I didn’t want Harry (or any of them, really) to fall out of love with the past because I wasn’t ready to fall out of love with it. It’s brought me so much joy and love and laughter and experiences. It feels like I’m begging please don’t move on without me. I’ve found a major piece of myself because of this band, and as ridiculous as it sounds, I now feel a little lost. Being 25 is weird enough in itself, in terms of career and relationships and generally just being, and now take away the part that gave me stability and my independence, and I’m just. Wandering. Waiting for something to happen to make me feel as happy as One Direction did.

Reading that back sounds ridiculous. But I’m not the only one here.

I know what this looks like, what it sounds like. I know how skewed my perspective is. I’m doing my best to fix it.

I have Harry’s album memorized. I love a few songs, like a few, dislike a few. I guess that goes for every album. His style has changed from what we’re used to, as has some of his lyrics, but the quirkiness is still the same. The heart is still there. I knew it would be.

I was overwhelmed walking into the show. It’s been over two years since I’ve seen a member of 1d on stage in front of me. I had high expectations - expectations for his performance, expectations about how I wanted to feel once it was over. The venue was beautiful. It was the perfect place to listen to this album live for the first time. Echoey and full of charm and personality. Crystals. Velvet couches in the box seating area. Marbles floors and winding staircases. Pink hues across the stage. Simple, effective lighting. Harry. All Harry. No more crowds by the thousands, no more booming music, no more larger than life stage. Somehow, I felt more anxious.

He did not disappoint. But then again, I didn’t expect him to. For the past three years, he’s always done the best job at captivating my attention whilst performing. Nothing has changed in that sense.

It felt like the final nail in the coffin for 1d, kind of. My friend’s words. It’s too hard to imagine him doing this and then going back to a place where he doesn’t get to 100% put his whole self into what he’s doing, and has to share and compromise on ideas. I understand that. It would be counterproductive to work backwards. It wouldn’t be impossible, but it would definitely feel less organic.

Not just for Harry. For all of them.

Doesn’t mean I’ve lost faith, though.

“It’s been two years since we’ve last seen each other,” he said, “and in those two years, I missed you so much.”

I cried from the moment I sat down until I got back to my hotel room.

I like to be overwhelmed by music. But not like this.

I think part of it is because this was only the fourth night of his tour. It’s still brand new. I’m still not well acquainted with it. New territory, uncharted. I sound so ugly for being so conflicted about solo endeavors, especially when I know there were people who won’t get the chance to see him and I did. I’m grateful, I promise. I’m working meticulously to sort my brain from my heart.

I’m seeing Niall in a few weeks. God help me if I feel this royally fucked over from him, too.

Harry has not left behind his roots. That much was clear. I don’t think I was ever really worried about that part, because he’s pure and kind and appreciates everything in his life for what it is. He would never speak an ill word about 1d. Ever. I don’t think he has any ill words. I sobbed when he performed WMYB. I loathe that song. It felt like a small piece of home, anyway, him using their start as a part of his start. He looked gorgeous. He sounded like a dream. He doesn’t have as much room to prance, but he made do. No catwalk, no problem. I missed his voice. His speaking voice, preaching to the crowds about love and bravery. His terrible jokes. His gratitude. Christ, it felt so good to have him in front of me again.

Kiwi was exceptional. The crowd went off. SOTT was overbearing in a beautiful way. Hearing everyone scream “woman!” all at once was a Goddamn experience. The room was deafening for the entire show.

It wasn’t the same. I didn’t expect it to be, but I wanted it to be.

My friend kept saying, “One Direction is so dead and I couldn’t care less.” I care. I hate the division amongst the fans, amongst the media. “Pick a team.” I don’t want to. Right now, my friend loves Harry more than One Direction as a whole, so she doesn’t understand. I’m not going to try to make her. The crowd chanted “Harry” during the encore, and my heart hurt in the strangest way. I told Rita about it. “Ugh. Just Harry.” I knew she’d understand. She almost always does.

I love Harry Styles. With my entire heart. He was happy on that stage. Even while I stood in the back with my face in my hands, I could see that. I’m happy he’s happy. I love nothing more than a happy Harry. The world is a better place when he’s smiling.

That doesn’t mean that I don’t feel unsettled.

It’s out of my control. Accept the good that comes along with changes. Something I’m learning. Something I’m sure all five original members of One Direction are also learning.

I’m seeing him again on Saturday, in Boston. I’m hoping the initial shock will be mostly worn off and now that I know what solo 1d feels like, I’ll feel more ready for it. More ready for his sequined suit, his smile, his note changes, his band that isn’t the one we’re all used to, the harmonies that bleed together as if it was fate, the lack of three other boys who I miss terribly.

Maybe he misses them as much as I do.

I saw Harry Styles at the Chicago Theatre on September 26th. He was stunning. He moved me to tears. He ran with a rainbow flag, made us scream about pizza, looked beautiful in the neon pink lights. It wasn’t One Direction. It wasn’t better. It wasn’t worse. It was just different. And that’s what I’ll keep telling myself. Embrace being different. It’s what Harry does, after all.

I’m profound in the art of making five days worth of clothing fit into one carry on bag. I can memorize new albums in 48 hours if I have the right determination. I’m able to meticulously plan trips to new cities and venues like it’s nobody’s business. I’ve yet to master the ability, however, of separating love and music.

But I guess those are technically the same thing, anyway.

Thank you for a beautiful show, Styles. Thank you for allowing us into your life, for staying true. I’ve missed you, as a whole, as an individual. I’ll see you on Saturday.

Stay tuned for a second update this weekend. I’m sure it will be much different. I’ll be sure to post some photos, as there will “mainly be prancing.” And what a shame it would be to miss that.

xx Shelly