A/N: HP=Rowlings. I place the blame on this fic solely on my own screwed up
mood swings.
*****
Selfish
*****
Hi Hermes.
It's just you and me again tonight. Kind of the way it is every night, huh? You're molting again, just look at all those white feathers that are littering the bottom of your cage.
I have a confession to make. I like it when you molt. The way you lean into my fingers as I scratch at those new pinfeathers around your neck that you can't reach. You…you're almost affectionate then. Less like a bird of prey, and more like a pet parakeet or something. Not that I think you'd appreciate the comparison if you could understand me.
It's just you and me again tonight.
But you know what? I'm okay with that. Maybe people aren't meant to be alone in the world. Maybe I'm not like them. Maybe I'm not human.
What do you think, Hermes? Do I smell human to you? Do I look human to you? Do you see anything when I walk into the room? Do you feel anything?
Birds of prey aren't equipped for affection with humans. I did a bit of studying up on Ornithology before I got you, you know. I suspect that when I walk in the room, all you see is a glorified food dispenser of sorts, and maybe the occasional good feather scratcher.
People need other people. That has to be a truth of society or being an outcast wouldn't be the horrible thing that it is. People need to be accepted, they need to belong, they need to have roots to come back to.
Am I human? Do I need other people?
What about you, Hermes? Do you ever resent that I keep you cooped up here in my room instead of down in the owlery?
I think that if I were you, I'd resent it. I'm being selfish, keeping you up here to myself. Pretending that you're more than you are.
Do you hate me for it, sometimes?
I keep you isolated, I force you to stay apart from the rest and I make sure that I've cut you off from your own kind. I know it's wrong. I know it's not natural.
But maybe I am human. I am being self-centered. To hear the twins talk, I don't know how to be anything else. Why would they say it if it weren't true?
Truth is, I keep you here because I don't want to be alone.
I keep you secluded up here because I need someone to talk to. To be with. And that someone just can't be human. It's like being drawn to a flame. They fascinate me, and I want to spend my time watching them. I want to study them, understand them, be with them.
Maybe it's just that I haven't figured out just yet how not to get burned, Hermes. I hate them sometimes. All they can seem to do sometimes is throw hurtful, spiteful words. They say it like I'm supposed to laugh at it, or understand it and accept it.
Maybe I'm not human.
Have you ever watched them out this window, Hermes? They have these odd social patterns they go in and out of everyday, it's like there's a hidden subtext to everything, and they don't even realize it exists. It's almost funny in a way. The only reason I know it exists is because I can't operate within it.
There's no point in being with other people if you can't dance the same dance they do.
It's almost laughable though. I'm the only one responsible for my own isolation. It's not like your forced entrapment, Hermes. I choose to remove myself from the pattern. I choose to live outside it. Even now, I startle you with my dry laugh, because you know, it never really felt like much of a choice.
Do you understand why I keep you up here, Hermes? Can you appreciate my reasons?
I doubt it.
Maybe Fred and George mean all those awful words in a good way. Maybe they do say them for my benefit, to try and help me learn. How are they to know that they're only reinforcing my isolation? How are they even supposed to know that it hurts?
But it's not really their fault. There I go again, being selfish. Placing the blame every where else but on my own shoulders, where it rightfully belongs.
I guess…I guess I just wonder sometimes, Hermes, if they realize how much of a struggle it is day in and day out.
It's less exhausting this way. I do less harm this way. Yes, it is lonely. It's so silent sometimes that my insides ache with it. I know you've watched me during those hours when I'll curl up on my bed and stare at nothing for hours. Studying only works as a distraction for so long, as I'm sure you've seen.
And here I am even now, rambling to you, an owl, as if you could understand every thing I say. As if you would even care if you could. I'm sure you'd much rather be out catching mice, and moving about in the world that's natural to you. It's not your fault that I can't move in the one that's native to me.
But see, for all the bad moments I have up here with you? The collective sum of the pain is never as great as it is when I'm with them.
I never learned the dance.
I don't know the pattern.
My defenses are weak, and the only way to protect myself is to remove myself.
But I guess I am human after all, because I can't live in a vacuum.
I'm sorry, Hermes. Next year. Next year I'll let you go, and I'll stop being so selfish.
*****
Selfish
*****
Hi Hermes.
It's just you and me again tonight. Kind of the way it is every night, huh? You're molting again, just look at all those white feathers that are littering the bottom of your cage.
I have a confession to make. I like it when you molt. The way you lean into my fingers as I scratch at those new pinfeathers around your neck that you can't reach. You…you're almost affectionate then. Less like a bird of prey, and more like a pet parakeet or something. Not that I think you'd appreciate the comparison if you could understand me.
It's just you and me again tonight.
But you know what? I'm okay with that. Maybe people aren't meant to be alone in the world. Maybe I'm not like them. Maybe I'm not human.
What do you think, Hermes? Do I smell human to you? Do I look human to you? Do you see anything when I walk into the room? Do you feel anything?
Birds of prey aren't equipped for affection with humans. I did a bit of studying up on Ornithology before I got you, you know. I suspect that when I walk in the room, all you see is a glorified food dispenser of sorts, and maybe the occasional good feather scratcher.
People need other people. That has to be a truth of society or being an outcast wouldn't be the horrible thing that it is. People need to be accepted, they need to belong, they need to have roots to come back to.
Am I human? Do I need other people?
What about you, Hermes? Do you ever resent that I keep you cooped up here in my room instead of down in the owlery?
I think that if I were you, I'd resent it. I'm being selfish, keeping you up here to myself. Pretending that you're more than you are.
Do you hate me for it, sometimes?
I keep you isolated, I force you to stay apart from the rest and I make sure that I've cut you off from your own kind. I know it's wrong. I know it's not natural.
But maybe I am human. I am being self-centered. To hear the twins talk, I don't know how to be anything else. Why would they say it if it weren't true?
Truth is, I keep you here because I don't want to be alone.
I keep you secluded up here because I need someone to talk to. To be with. And that someone just can't be human. It's like being drawn to a flame. They fascinate me, and I want to spend my time watching them. I want to study them, understand them, be with them.
Maybe it's just that I haven't figured out just yet how not to get burned, Hermes. I hate them sometimes. All they can seem to do sometimes is throw hurtful, spiteful words. They say it like I'm supposed to laugh at it, or understand it and accept it.
Maybe I'm not human.
Have you ever watched them out this window, Hermes? They have these odd social patterns they go in and out of everyday, it's like there's a hidden subtext to everything, and they don't even realize it exists. It's almost funny in a way. The only reason I know it exists is because I can't operate within it.
There's no point in being with other people if you can't dance the same dance they do.
It's almost laughable though. I'm the only one responsible for my own isolation. It's not like your forced entrapment, Hermes. I choose to remove myself from the pattern. I choose to live outside it. Even now, I startle you with my dry laugh, because you know, it never really felt like much of a choice.
Do you understand why I keep you up here, Hermes? Can you appreciate my reasons?
I doubt it.
Maybe Fred and George mean all those awful words in a good way. Maybe they do say them for my benefit, to try and help me learn. How are they to know that they're only reinforcing my isolation? How are they even supposed to know that it hurts?
But it's not really their fault. There I go again, being selfish. Placing the blame every where else but on my own shoulders, where it rightfully belongs.
I guess…I guess I just wonder sometimes, Hermes, if they realize how much of a struggle it is day in and day out.
It's less exhausting this way. I do less harm this way. Yes, it is lonely. It's so silent sometimes that my insides ache with it. I know you've watched me during those hours when I'll curl up on my bed and stare at nothing for hours. Studying only works as a distraction for so long, as I'm sure you've seen.
And here I am even now, rambling to you, an owl, as if you could understand every thing I say. As if you would even care if you could. I'm sure you'd much rather be out catching mice, and moving about in the world that's natural to you. It's not your fault that I can't move in the one that's native to me.
But see, for all the bad moments I have up here with you? The collective sum of the pain is never as great as it is when I'm with them.
I never learned the dance.
I don't know the pattern.
My defenses are weak, and the only way to protect myself is to remove myself.
But I guess I am human after all, because I can't live in a vacuum.
I'm sorry, Hermes. Next year. Next year I'll let you go, and I'll stop being so selfish.