---------Note to Self---------
Dear Journal,
9:39 AM
Note to Self: Whoever thought up the whole "Guys-asking-girls-out" concept should be hard-boiled. Slowly. The reason for so morbid a thought? Ginny Weasley.
I'm not sure what it is exactly, but — though I do know there's something about her — I can't get her out of my mind. The red hair is starting to give me a migraine…
I mean, I see her in the hall and BAM! The world stops moving and I can't seem to rid my face of drool. It's a bit odd, actually…never would've pictured myself as the drooling type.
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10:17 AM
Note to Self: The next time a girl throws herself at you, CATCH HER! Because, apparently, you realize you like them a few years after that.
Do you know how irritating it is to stalk someone who would've died to date you two years ago? Its bloody buggering HELL is what it is! sigh Damn Dean…and Michael Corner…and…all those other guys she's dated. Am I the only one who was a big enough idiot not to see it?
Apparently.
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12:43 PM
Note to Self: When all else fails, banging your head on the table does NOT stimulate brain function. But it does give you a headache and make people stare…and scoot away.
I think I scared Ginny today when I did that. She looked kind of worried. But she did touch my shoulder!
1:50 PM
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Note to Self: Sometimes, you actually do want to step on one of those trick steps…and have it swallow you whole.
I must be the most uncoordinated klutz in the world. I was walking back from lunch with Ron and Hermione when I tripped on…something…I'm not sure what…and fell all the way down the stairs.
Malfoy was there and he's never going to let me live it down. So was Ginny…Damn my resilient-ness! Why can't I just DIE! At least I couldn't embarrass myself anymore…in theory.
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4: 12 PM
Note to Self: I wonder how long I can hold my breath. Maybe I'll die of oxygen depravation and never have to face the world again.
Of course, there is that thing about me apparently not being able to die!
Life sucks that way.
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6:66 PM
Note to Self: I've decided to join a monastery of silent virgin monks so I can't torture myself anymore.
My new theory is that if I can't have Ginny, I don't want anyone. I'm going to die a virgin…oh, God, kill me now!
—Harry
---------Note to self---------
My Dearest Diary,
9:39 AM
Note to Self: Whoever thought up the whole "Guys-asking-girls-out" concept should be hard-boiled. Slowly. The reason for so morbid a thought? Harry Potter.
The boy has faced dragons, evil dark lords, Fred and George, and countless other horrors, but he can't muster the courage to ask me out! I know he likes me, I can see him staring…even now. Ugh…I never thought him for the drooling type.
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10:17 AM
Note to Self: The next time a guy ignores your attempts to throw yourself at him, STOP EFFING THROWING YOURSELF! Apparently, Golden Boy doesn't have two brain cells to rub together.
Even years after the fact I haven't gotten so much as a post-it note…sigh Well, at least there was Dean. And Michael…and all those other guys I dated.
Is Harry the only one who is a big enough idiot not to see it?
Apparently.
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12:43 PM
Note to Self: When all else fails, banging your head on the table does NOT stimulate brain function. At least, I think that's what Harry was trying to do…
It was rather frightening actually. We were just sitting in study hall and BANG! Harry starts slamming his head onto the table. I tried to look sympathetic, but it's hard to pity someone who is a flaming imbecile.
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1:50 PM
Note to Self: Sometimes, you actually do want to step on one of those trick steps…and have it swallow you whole.
I just know that's how Harry must've been feeling today when he fell down the stairs. And he took a few people with him, too! I don't think poor Dennis Creevy will ever walk the same way...Harry must feel awful.
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4: 12 PM
Note to Self: I wonder how long I can hold my breath. Maybe that's how long it'll take Harry to get off his arse and ask me out.
But, then again, I'd probably die of oxygen depravation and never get the chance to shag the Boy-Who-Lived.
Life sucks that way.
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6:66 PM
Note to Self: I've decided to become a prostitute.
My new theory is that if Harry really can't see how I feel, then I'm not going to waste my time with him. At least these other guys will pay!
Love and Diamonds,
Ginny aka: The Hogwarts Whore
—fin—
Note from the Author: Yes, I do know that 6:66 is not a real time. It's called symbolism. Please refrain from pointing out the obvious. Thanks!
