It's not easy being the brightest witch of her age. Being smart, which is what they tell her she is, comes at a price.
The war takes a toll on everyone, but she is, unbeknowest to those who are around her, the one that breaks apart the most, yet shows it the least.
It is difficult for her to tell her friends, on the rare occasion that they do ask if she is alright. She cannot explain her emptiness to them. She thinks they won't understand. She doesn't even try to test her theory. What kind of friend would she be, if she threw at her problems at them? It isn't like they can solve it after all.
She pretends, to herself, when she is alone, that the war, Voldemort, the deaths she has witnessed; those are the reason she feels this way. But in her heart of hearts, she knows what it really is. The bar she sets for herself, that everyone sets for her, that everyone sets for her, is high enough that she falls short far too often. And when she does, she finds it hard to live with herself.
It's my fault, she thinks. I should've been able to reverse the spell on my parents. I should've been better to Ron. I should've done better on my NEWTs.
Ever the problem solver, she spends a lot of time thinking of a solution. There is one that suggests itself to her on a constant basis. She ignores it in the beginning. It's ridiculous, she tells herself, and insane. But as time goes on, she wonders if the simplest option is indeed the best one.
She becomes obsessed with the idea, and struggles with not revealing as much to her friends. She spend every waking hour thinking about how she could carry it out efficiently enough. She even resorts to using Muggle resources to do her research. It had to be perfect, after all. She only has one shot.
She decides it's lucky she lives in a high rise apartment. It makes her job much easier. The roof has always been her favourite place anyway. It's wonderful to stand on the usually empty place, and stare at the stars twinkle, with the cool breeze blowing on her face. If she's lucky, there's even a drizzle. Tonight, there's just the clouds, however.
It's apt, she thinks. The night is dark, just like her life. And in the darkness, even silver linings are invisible.
But she doesn't need silver linings anymore. She doesn't need anything at all. Everything will finally be over.
It's a pity, really, she tells herself as she stands on the ledge. A pity that she couldn't ever be the one thing she wanted. She couldn't be good enough.
Not good enough, she whispers again. Then, she falls.
Notes: For the Through the Universe Challenge at TGS. Prompt: Twinkle
This was the hardest thing for me to write, among everything I have ever written.