A.N. No. I'm not depressed.... noooo.... not at all. I don't own anything. And yes, Ginny IS comparing Harry to Irish moss.
The Outsider
by Corynth
If you don't see me, Harry, I'm here. I'm here, staring at you, hoping and praying that you'll look up at me. But you never do. You look at Cho Chang. If you didn't think I noticed, I did. And guess what? That's over. She's still in love with Cedric Diggory and you know it. You haven't got a chance with her. But you've got one with me. Ron tells me that this will pass. Someday I'll realize that you're a pipe dream, and move on with my life. Percy says I don't love you. I'm much too young to be in love. 'A childish infaturation' he says. But I do love you, Harry Potter. I love you like I love the Irish moss in the summer. And did you know that the Irish moss loves me back? It's always there, waiting for me when I get home from school, in that field over the fence, waiting like a soft carpet for me to lie on and watch the sky. You aren't like that. You aren't inviting, you don't love me back- heck, I don't even know if you like me. At times I feel you do, but then you stop smiling, or stop talking, or just walk away without saying goodbye. I hate you in a million ways, but I love you more. I always will. There will always be this little place in my heart reserved for you and you alone. I hope that in the deepest region of you're heart, you have a little place for me, that someday we will live happily ever after together. But I strongly doubt this will ever happen. You will never really see me; I will always be the outsider.