Everyone hates me everyone hates me everyone hates me everyone hates me everyone hates me everyone hates me everyone hates me everyone hates me everyone hates me everyone hates me I'm so alone
They see right through me they see right through me they see right through me they see right through me they see right through me they see right through me they see right through me I'm invisible
I'm nothing I'm nothing I'm nothing I'm nothing I'm nothing I'm nothing I'm nothing I'm nothing I'm nothing I'm nothing I'm nothing I'm nothing I'm nothing I'm nothing I'm nothing I'm nothing I'm a waste of oxygen
Severus Snape walked along the beach. A cool spring breeze gracefully fluttered through his greasy black hair. But he didn't notice. What was the point? How could he get enjoyment from such a trivial thing when the aching, ripping pain in his heart had engulfed him entirely?
He glared jealously as a young man kissed his girlfriend passionately, their mouths molding together perfectly. He wondered why that man wasn't him. What made him so pathetic that no one wanted to date him?
The woman looked up from her kiss and stared right into the black pools of Severus' eyes. A jolt shot through Snape's chest. Could this mean she secretly desired him? Even though she was kissing that other boy was she thinking of him?
But the second ended and she looked back down with love for the strong arms about her. She had only been mildly interested in the set of eyes watching her with such envy and malcontent. That's all. That's all it ever was. No one actually looked at Snape unless they were just seeing who it was or glaring blankly at him.
He hung his head in embarrassment, harassing himself for actually thinking that the idea of her liking him was possible. She was ten times better than he was. He wished it was different but that's how the world worked. You were either one of the beautiful people, one of the rich ugly people who paid people off so that they could be considered beautiful, or one of the workers who had mild respect because they worked so hard and made life comfortable for the beautiful people.
Snape didn't qualify as any of the three. He was neither intelligent nor beautiful. He was like that last bit of dough. All rolled together and used to make a lopsided, oddly shaped biscuit. Not like the rest, with no hope of ever looking like them. He was the refuse.
Another couple strolled passed him, holding hands affectionately. They didn't even jeopardize a second of their precious time staring into each other's eyes to glance in Snape's direction. But why would they in the first place? He was invisible, of little importance and relatively no consequence. The world would probably run just fine without him. He hadn't left a print on anyone he had met so he doubted anyone would be sad at his passing.
He could just see his funeral, empty and silent. No one to sob over his body. No one to tend his gravestone. In the years to come it would become unreadable and choked by weeds. And whatever chance Snape had had at being noticed would be gone forever.
He was sauntering towards the large beech tree that rested on the edge of the crystal clear lake. Some of its branches just glided across the lake's surface.
Sitting up in a branch was the most gorgeous creature in existence. She had long fiery red hair and sparkling emerald eyes. Her leg was lazily hanging off the branch swinging freely back and forth like a clock pendulum. A book rested in her hands.
An urge to run up and tickle the leg shot through Snape. Of course he never would. She would loathe him forever. Which may not be such a bad thing. Then someone would notice his passing, possibly even dance on his grave. Girls never forgot a grudge. She would hold on to him in contempt forever. At least he wouldn't be unreal, at least not to her.
He stood there in a trance as she flipped a page, yawning ever so primly. Her red lips muttering as she read the words written across the page. She never looked up. She was lost in another reality where she was possibly a beautiful princess waiting for her knight to save her. Or maybe she was a female warrior defending a village of helpless orphans from a bloodthirsty warlord.
Whoever it was she was pretty wrapped up in it. Her eyes would bulge out in disbelief, and the next second they would be wet with tears. Excitement, love, anger, sorrow, she has it all in her own personal little world.
Snape's personal little world is dark and desolate. That's all, nothing else. It is no refuge for him.
He's lost forever on a sea of sorrow. The salt causing his wounds to burn with pain. No one can find him. No one can save him even if they wanted to. He's alone. He's broken.
He's a doll with a smashed face, forgotten on a dusty shelf.
No one can fix him. No one wants to.