(a/n the song is Maroon 5's She Will Be Loved, i don't own it or Ginny Weasly)
She Will Be Loved
Beauty queen of only eighteen,she had some trouble with herself
He was always there to help her,she always belonged to someone else
I drove for miles and miles,and wound up at your door
I've had you so many times but somehow I want more,
I don't mind spending everyday,out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile,ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
She will be loved
Ginny Weasley sat on the roof of the tower right next to her dorm. It was cold and dark out, her tomatoe red hair was soaked dark with rain and it whipped about her face in the harsh winds. Her mascara was running down her pale skin, staining her face with an inky black, but she didn't care. She didn't seem to care about anything anymore.Ginny wiped her tear filled eyes and glanced into her dorm. Girls doing each others hair, lounging on each others bed, gossiping. No one semed to nice she was gone, or if they did, they didn't care. Ginny sighed. It wasn't that she wanted these people to notice she was gone. The truth was those girls were shallow and dumb, and drove Ginny insane. But she did someone to notice, and to really, truely care. Someone to ask her what was wrong, and when she said "nothing" to reply, "tell me the truth". Someone to see through her mask, to see her smile was broken, and her eyes no longer sparkled with life and warmth. But no one did. Not that she expected them to, it wasn't exactly obvious. Everyone thought Ginny's life was perfect. She was pretty, and popular. Boys of all ages drooled as she walked by. Her family loved and coddled her. Which is why one might find it strange that this seemingly perfect girl cries herself to sleep. Why this seemingly perfect girl had scars she had caused her self etched up and down her arms, scars that no one had even noticed. She herself didn't know why she was like this. Ginny wanted to know,wanted to figure out what was wrong with herself. Was she crazy, or depressed? Had something happened to her that caused this unhealthy pattern of self loathing? All she wanted to figure out was why. But Ginny couldn't, and was too proud to admit to someone else she had some problems, to proud to admit she couldn't figure something out. It was this reason she had began to cut herself. The blade slicing into her flesh caused her to go numb, to feel like she was in control of her own pain, when their was so much pain that couldn't be controlled, this was the pain that could. The blood trickling down her arms made her feel, oddly enough, alive. Ginny hoped that one day she would find the person that would get her to admit what was wrong, who would want to help her, and that person would be with her forever, through thick and thin, through ups and downs. But for now, all Ginny had was her perch, her razor, and a need to be in control. And, as she had done countless nights before, Ginny sastisfied that need.