It really is a thin line we walk. A thin line between love and hate, death
and life...and good and evil. I learned this early on in my life. A Diary
started it all - a simple Diary. I thought it'd be my escape, my way out.
If I only knew how true that would ring in the future.
When I first found out about the Diary, I was young and extremely naive. I poured my heart out to it, and was delighted by the charming young man that always knew what to say to cheer me up. He was so brilliant, so thoughtful, so mature - and so evil. I knew it from the start, but I was too eager for a confidant to take the time to contemplate what I was doing. It wasn't until I began to feel tired and depressed, that I realized my savior was killing me. Slowly I was wasting away - but I never let the Diary be. I grew addicted to it, eager to hear Tom's comforting words. The flattery, the compliments - I drank them up as thought it was my oasis in the desert.
When strange things began to happen, I knew who was behind it. I had fuzzy memories and half ideas, yet Tom didn't seem to think that anything was wrong. I could sense he was lying though - but I didn't care. I needed him more than I needed anything else in my life. He understood me.
The night I awoke in the Chamber was one of the most confusing and horrible nights of my life. When I looked up and saw Harry standing above me, I had a momentary flash of sadness. Yes, I had adored Harry before this, but since I met Tom, nothing was the same. Some part of me was so disappointed that he hadn't come back to save me. I thought that maybe he'd understand my needs and come to me.
My life went on, yet I still thought of Tom. He'd taken me into the Diary and his memories, and I still felt as though I were a part of his life. I remembered his beautiful face - he was the most handsome man I had ever seen in my life. While boys like Harry and Draco were very good looking, no one could compare to Tom. His eyes were gorgeous - when I looked at them I felt like I was drowning. Nothing else mattered when he looked at me. Once, just before he went after Harry, he emerged from the Diary intact - the first time he had come to me outside of his memories. My breath caught in my throat as I looked at him. His hand, which I imagined to be rough and stained with the blood of innocents, was soft and smooth against my cheek. It was the first time he had touched me, but it wasn't the last. More would come, but when I was older.
When I was older. What a phrase. I should say When I was older nothing changed. I thought I'd forget about him when I was older - I thought I'd be disgusted by myself and my actions and feelings towards him -- but I wasn't. He was always in the back of my mind. When Harry told me he loved me but as a sister, Tom was there. When Seamus told me he loved someone else, Tom was there. And when Draco broke my heart and tore my dreams apart, Tom was there. He's whisper words to me, telling me everything would be all right, and that one day we'd be together. I told myself I was imagining it, but the powerful ache in my heart and the nudging in the back of my head told me otherwise. Our lives had become entangled the moment I opened that Diary.
I am older now. Wiser? Perhaps. Naive? Sometimes I wish I could be naive again, and sometimes I'm glad of all that's happened. When Tom came back to me, my world came to a sudden halt and crashed into a million pieces - but he put it back together.
When I first found out about the Diary, I was young and extremely naive. I poured my heart out to it, and was delighted by the charming young man that always knew what to say to cheer me up. He was so brilliant, so thoughtful, so mature - and so evil. I knew it from the start, but I was too eager for a confidant to take the time to contemplate what I was doing. It wasn't until I began to feel tired and depressed, that I realized my savior was killing me. Slowly I was wasting away - but I never let the Diary be. I grew addicted to it, eager to hear Tom's comforting words. The flattery, the compliments - I drank them up as thought it was my oasis in the desert.
When strange things began to happen, I knew who was behind it. I had fuzzy memories and half ideas, yet Tom didn't seem to think that anything was wrong. I could sense he was lying though - but I didn't care. I needed him more than I needed anything else in my life. He understood me.
The night I awoke in the Chamber was one of the most confusing and horrible nights of my life. When I looked up and saw Harry standing above me, I had a momentary flash of sadness. Yes, I had adored Harry before this, but since I met Tom, nothing was the same. Some part of me was so disappointed that he hadn't come back to save me. I thought that maybe he'd understand my needs and come to me.
My life went on, yet I still thought of Tom. He'd taken me into the Diary and his memories, and I still felt as though I were a part of his life. I remembered his beautiful face - he was the most handsome man I had ever seen in my life. While boys like Harry and Draco were very good looking, no one could compare to Tom. His eyes were gorgeous - when I looked at them I felt like I was drowning. Nothing else mattered when he looked at me. Once, just before he went after Harry, he emerged from the Diary intact - the first time he had come to me outside of his memories. My breath caught in my throat as I looked at him. His hand, which I imagined to be rough and stained with the blood of innocents, was soft and smooth against my cheek. It was the first time he had touched me, but it wasn't the last. More would come, but when I was older.
When I was older. What a phrase. I should say When I was older nothing changed. I thought I'd forget about him when I was older - I thought I'd be disgusted by myself and my actions and feelings towards him -- but I wasn't. He was always in the back of my mind. When Harry told me he loved me but as a sister, Tom was there. When Seamus told me he loved someone else, Tom was there. And when Draco broke my heart and tore my dreams apart, Tom was there. He's whisper words to me, telling me everything would be all right, and that one day we'd be together. I told myself I was imagining it, but the powerful ache in my heart and the nudging in the back of my head told me otherwise. Our lives had become entangled the moment I opened that Diary.
I am older now. Wiser? Perhaps. Naive? Sometimes I wish I could be naive again, and sometimes I'm glad of all that's happened. When Tom came back to me, my world came to a sudden halt and crashed into a million pieces - but he put it back together.