Dear Harry Styles,
We'd like to apologise. During your One Direction days, you turned our eyes green, and not the cute emerald green that is so desirable, the jealous type (obviously). We blamed you for our romantic failures, instead of blaming that bottle of Lynx deodorant we incessantly believed was the answer to our prayers. We blamed you when our hair wouldn't grow out with a natural shine and curl. We blamed you when the songs we wrote didn't make the girls woo, when we didn't sound like an angel, when we weren't given that second chance by Simon Cowell. We blamed you for far too much.
You were so young and unaware of the pain you were causing, as the same thought ran through every young boys' head: "How can 5 boys sing such awful songs and yet be compared to The Beatles?". However, now we know, none of this was your fault. You were just doing what any of us would've done. And whilst some questioned your decision to abandon the thing that gave you such celebrity status, we can assure you Harry, it was the best decision you ever made. As now we have forgiven you for your sins, and now we worship you even more so than those teenage girls did, that we so intensely despised and mocked for so long.
Eventually, you were cut loose. You broke free from the chain, you listened to the wind blow, watched the sun rise and became a true national treasure.
You left 1D and became a man. Producing an album of soft-rock, you altered the world's opinion. However, when you began wearing those suits, man, you became an icon. Those suits. Your wardrobe, a bouquet of flowers, more colourful than a rainbow itself, more exotic than a Mandarin fish. Without you, we wouldn't have the confidence to experiment, and we most certainly would never have abandoned our beloved Topman buttoned v-neck T-shirts (you know the ones right? The tops every year 7 boy wore on own clothes day?).
In your velvet leopard print, you prowl across the stage with confidence, you move with such poise and grace. You mix playful and professional with seeming ease. And it's not just on stage where your image astounds us. You've made it seem possible to take three or four cute puppies, or a chicken, to your local chippy, in a Gucci, gingham dressing gown too. Now, we can go to the pub in our PJs certain nobody will laugh or judge. We can carry our pet goat with us to the newsagents and people will stop to compliment us, even take photos of us looking pretty, looking free, rather than chasing us all the way back home like they used to. And I mean all the way back home. Without you Harry, none of this would be possible.
Realistically, you've made anything possible, Harry. For that, we salute you.
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