I've been wanting to write about Ginny for a long time... and I finally did!

I hope you like it:

Hearing

I have a long nose that curves up. It has lots of freckles on it, and my boyfriends like licking it. They tell me it reminds them of snowflakes. It reminds me of my brothers' noses and it makes me break up with the boyfriend who mentions my nose. It's just a nose, not a Popsicle.

They also like mentioning my ribs. They stick out, every one of them, all the way up to right below my collarbone. The boys are worried, 'cause as the days pass my ribs are even more visible. All they do is touch me, and when they stop because they say I'll break, I end it with them. It's not as if my bones aren't strong though, since I like milk.

My friends are cool, or at least the ones that I like. None of my family knows about the ones I don't mention, so they only know who the people I enjoy talking to are. Their names are Neville and Luna. They make me laugh, and then I turn happy. I stop being happy quickly since my boyfriends will tell me that when I laugh, my cheeks go a shade of pink like cotton candy, and they like cotton candy. I don't like cotton candy. I don't like food.

I blink at the friends I dislike, the nameless ones. They don't try to understand me, even though there isn't anything very complicated about me.

I have art surrounding my four-poster bed in Hogwarts. Luna gives me her art. She tells me that pastels on paper keep away Wrackspurts, so all of the pictures are very colorful and smudgy. My favorite is of a rainbow, with a collage of happiness inside each of the color stripes. I think I believe in Wrackspurts and nargles since I've met her. She makes me think about things, Luna does.

What is life for? Why do we think the things we think, and why do we only understand some parts of life? The stuff we don't understand we tend to think is useless and we judge the people around us who believe the undiscovered. Humans are narrow-minded, so I don't believe Luna is one… A human, that is.

Neville makes me feel that I am not that bad. I don't feel a bit self-conscious about my first year when he speaks. And it makes me feel as if I'm doing something good in the world when I tell him that he's smart and brave and powerful. People are horrible to him, and he is completely misunderstood. He becomes too nervous around people who aren't important to the world. Who caresif Malfoy thinks you are stupid, Neville, if your friends think you are amazing?

I don't like when people are mean when they shouldn't be. I like being mean to the people who are mean to others. I shouldn't like it though. It's a flaw.

I like shrinking my Hogwarts skirt, and I like swinging my hips as I enter the Great Hall. It's fun to suck on a couple of my fingers as I stare at some stupid boy as they ogle back in shock. I also like it when I walk away from the stares. It makes me feel I have control.

In my dreams, Tom Riddle haunts me. He scares me, and sometimes I really think he's trying to control me again. My roommates think it's funny when it happens to me. Apparently I breathe loudly when I'm dreaming of it all. It's not very funny to me though, so that's when I leave the dormitory and tip-toe somewhere far away from them.

When I am upset, I leave. Anywhere away from disaster, finding a new classroom or closet in the castle. I saved up money in my second and third year here and bought a pensieve, so now all my memory is in little tubes next to a see-through crystal bowl, underneath my bed. When I discover a new place in Hogwarts, I put the memory inside a container, just in case I forget about it.

I've thought about making a map of Hogwarts for the next-generation students. If I have children, I want to give it to them. I'd encourage them to run away from everything.

I've been taught to run away from trouble. I wish I knew about forgetting when I was in first year.

It's embarrassing, being possessed. It makes me feel weak and powerless. All through second year, people treated me differently, as if I was such a sad child. People aren't as apologetic anymore, which I'm thankful for. I think it's because I don't look very young.

My eyes are brown, so I can get away with dark eye-shadow. I look older than I am when I wear the makeup, and I look beautiful. My lips always have red lipstick on them because they are pale and ugly without it. When their skin wipes away the red, they tell me I'm a ghost and it gives them the chills. They say that I'm almost transparent, and I'm just so fragile, yet so dark. I am the best in my class at self-defense. And when I'm angry, I use the bat-bogey hex. The boys who ruin my makeup leave very quickly.

Red hair goes down to my waist. There are layers in it and it is very long. Boyfriends feel the need to wrap it around and around there hands and call it their messy mane. They say the waves remind them of a sea of flames. After that, it feels as if my hair's on fire. Usually, I run to the bathroom and dunk my head into a sink full of cold water. That's how I know the people I date only do it because I'm attractive. Why else would they want to date a loony?

I think I hallucinate a lot. It scares me, really. People from school look at me strangely, so I always feel I missed something. Did they say something to me? I imagine what I want to imagine, and everything else is a blur. I want the blurriness to stop, but my mind doesn't ever have anything to focus on.

All I do is listen. I never take in my surroundings, besides sound. I wish I saw more detail and beauty, but I can only take in the art that hangs on my wall and the mirror in front of me. Everything else is sound. It hurts my ears, too.

I don't care what they think of my nose or ribs or eyes or lips or hair. Nothing they say is true. All I am is me. And I never picture a nose or rib or eye or lip or hair when I think of myself.

I am just Ginny.

Boring.

I think I am mad, too.

But other people are cool.

I think Harry is cool. He makes me laugh, along with Luna and Neville. He's best at it though, and I'm pretty sure he understands me more than they do.

Harry forgets though, that I'm not that young. He still imagines me as Ron's baby sister.

Maybe it's because my nose and ribs and eyes and lips and hair don't stand out to him. Maybe it's good that he doesn't see me, so that he isn't like all the other boys. But maybe I want him to open his eyes to me! And maybe I'm bored of hearing. Maybe I want him to feel it all and then gaze across my form as he touches all of me.

Can I only get one or the other? The friends that are cool only listen, while the others like to feel with wide eyes.

I'm stuck.

Between

One and the other.

And I feel lost, and even more insane. I want to go to a crazy house, where people could relate. Maybe it would help. Maybe it would make me see. But Mum and Dad couldn't do that, and I couldn't do it either.

It's just one of my imaginations, me walking with a dark brown suitcase in one hand, the other hand dirty with no nail polish, as I enter iron gates to a nut house. All I'm wearing is a see-through slip, with my hair blowing in the wind. I'm gorgeous and even skinnier than in real life.

Of course, that would never happen so there's no point in imagining it.

I think I imagine because I have no sight. All of the colors and lines and solids are just my creations, and I've no idea how the world looks. I know what my mind's image is, though. The outside of my mind is the problem. I've no idea what anything looks like, and it makes me scared.

My first boyfriend came when I was so desperate, when I felt I needed something for support. When I left him, scared that he was dangerous, I really felt broken. By the time we had split, I had met the people who listened and understood me, who were cool, not hot. And I never wanted to date them, in fear that I would leave the people I loved.

Maybe I forced myself to only hear, knowing that the people who could see were the bad guys, the ones who I ran away from. And maybe I trained myself so well, that now, when I want to see images of life and the love around me, I can't. It's been years since I've opened my eyes and felt the wind blowing up against me, and right before the two senses ended, I was taken over.

I can't trust sight.

I can't trust feel.

Or else there is bad in the world.

Even if I want both, I know I won't get it.

I'm too scared for my sanity, and having feelings will only make me weak. And so will seeing, because how can anyone ever believe what is in plain view?

So I will stick with hearing, no matter how much I need to sacrifice, now knowing the details of what's going on around me. Because when people are given the opportunity to talk, they tell me exactly what I need to hear. And they won't lie.

Of course, if I don't let the people who are cool come in focus or have their edges and slopes, it means they won't be able to touch or focus in either.

I won't have a complete Luna, Neville, or even Harry because they've no idea that my nose and ribs and eyes and lips and hair are part of me.

But they're more a part of me than those nameless, burning hot friends I've always had, and that has to be enough.

Because the cool and I are more than them. We hear the ocean and bird and tree and student and professor and we make an accusation. The others feel it is stupid and they grab us and they beat us and try showing we are wrong,but we aren't. They have closed minds.

After all, just because they can feel and see, doesn't mean it's real. It could just be a hallucination, a dream, a picture.

But love has proof.

Maybe the last part was weak... Do you think I should end this short fanfic after "I am just Ginny"? I think I will, but I'll keep it at this for a couple days.

Did you think it was okay? I know it's probably completely different than you've imagined Ginny to be... but it's just a fanfic so don't worry... (It's completely different than the movie Ginny, but I didn't like the movie Ginny whatsoever!)

Please review to make me happy. I want to know what you think of this.

-Maia