James' POV:

I lay in bed and gaze at my plain white ceiling, thoughts of Lily Evans invading my mind. I was falling in love with her. . . and fast. But there was one problem:

She had a boyfriend.

Whenever I saw them in the hallways, she was smiling, giggling and clinging to the boy's arm.

Even though I was in love with her, her words stung, still ringing in my ears:

Just forget it, James. I'm in love.

Frustration grew in the depth of my heart. I've tried, tried so hard. But I was a failure. She's already made a choice that she loves him. I'm just another stranger in her world. Someone she won't pay attention to.

I sighed as I rolled over in the sheets. Sleep wouldn't come to me. My heart wouldn't stop pounding, has been for a few days. Not normally. I could hear the beat in my ears, like what you would get before you were to perform in front of thousands of people. The only time it would go away is if I were to fall asleep.

But how could I stay asleep forever? Classes to attend, games to play, I couldn't just ignore them. How could I ignore those things? Then it dawned on me that the answer was death.

I quickly sat up in my bed, sweat pouring down my forehead as the thought of death haunted me. But it was the only way out of this misery. I mean, I fake smile, cry in silence, why not kill myself?

I threw the sheets off of me and got up from bed. I walked into the bathroom to get the large bottle of anti-depressants that my roommate use to take.

I grabbed a coat, stuffed the bottle in to my pocket and raced towards the quidditch field, but not before snatching my broom.

I rose into the sky, the earth getting smaller from beneath me. I took out the anti-depressant, pouring out as much as my hand could hold.

Swallowing hard, I shoved them into my mouth, the vile taste plaguing my mouth. I quickly swallowed a few, soon all of them gone, into my body.

After a few minutes of gazing off, my head started to spin, my vision getting blurry. The loud heart beat I had before grew more and more, making it the only thing I could hear. It blasted against my ear drums, pounding into my head.

Just forget it, James. I'm in love.

Those dreadful words pumped in my blood, coursing through my veins, making my blood boil, yet shredding my heart to pieces. My breathing became erratic, but I could not hear it, the cold air tumbled into my lungs and out.

The only thing I could hear was my heartbeat.

My stomach churned and that's when I knew that I was being drowned in a tidal wave of anti-depressants. All because of a silly girl, right?

Wrong. I can't even fathom words to describe her beauty, personality, and intelligence. The amount of attention I gave her was as big as a boulder, whereas the amount of attention she gave me was the size of a pebble.

Tears streamed down my face, leaving a wet trail and gliding into my mouth, making me taste the saltiness.

My hands shook violently as I gripped the broom underneath me. I looked up at the sky, dark as ever, stars twinkling, the moon the only thing illuminating the space. It spun, due to the effect of the pills, making it look like whizzing down a street lit by lights in a circle.

By now, my heart beat seemed to torturously beat against my chest, hoping to get out, let everything go.

I gazed back up at the sky, letting it spin. I took my hands off the broom and let them sway by my side before lifting them up.

I slid off of it, freefalling through the sky, my body being thrown into the void.

With each second I dropped, my heart continued to beat heavily, but losing the feeling, my body becoming numb. My mind was dead.

Tell me that this love for her isn't fake. That is isn't a waste. That it truly does mean something. Show me that this hole in my heart is not made to be mended by surgeons, that this pain is permanent. If they cannot mend it, then that is what true love is. It has to leave a scar, her not loving me, to show I actually loved her, possibly more than her "lover". But true love doesn't turn your love from vibrant red to dull blue, casting shadows on your battered heart. The butterflies that you use to get when you first saw that person shouldn't die within you. Your heart should skip a beat when you hear your name roll off their tongue. Their touch should send a bolt of electricity through your body, making you yearn for more.

But there will always be people that don't get those butterflies, or receiver the vibrant red love. They won't get the passion, care, or comfort of having someone to love. They won't get the chance of being enveloped in the warmth of tender passion. Their world becomes a cold, dreary, gloomy place to be, color erased from sight. A pool of envy bubbling from their stomachs and up. Spiraling confusion as to why they don't get a lover. Imperfections and flaws that are untrue brainwash them. Pain trampling their body-

But I couldn't finish my last thought because the beat of my heart that had surged through my body like a wave in the ocean had stopped.