Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is super rich. I am not. Thus, I am not her.
After
I have no idea what comes after death.
Maybe it's a happy, bright light that cheerily envelopes you and whisks you away to a miraculous world of joyful faces and pretty things. Maybe it's a burning fire that rips at your skin and slashes your organs into tiny strips while simultaneously boiling your blood to evaporation point. Maybe its just darkness. I don't know.
I am contemplating finding out.
My friends are dead.
I miss them. They were the ones that convinced me that I'm not a monster, they persuaded me I am something that deserves to live in this world. Without them I am nothing.
I am nothing now.
My love is in prison. He killed my friends.
I hate him.
I love him.
When I look in the mirror, I see lines. So, so many lines, wrinkles, creases.
One line for every trial I've gone through, one for every unhappy moment that fate has given me.
I can't count them. I don't want to.
So many lines.
The thing about life that I have learned now, is not to trust. Love, yes. Always love. It makes everything happen, love does. But never trust. Never give your entire being to another, never let others see your pain. They will always betray you in the end.
I move about my life as before, but my eyes are vacant. My mind is not there anymore. All the years I spent studying, trying to gain all the knowledge that my eager mind could soak up, gone to waste. My mind is relishing in the memories that were once realities.
All I have left of them are memories.
Soon, I won't even have that.
A/N: Very agnsty, if I do say so myself. I was feeling depressed when I wrote this months ago, and I just found it! So, I touched it up and published it. Yay! Reviews make me smile!