I don't want to bore you with a long author's note so I'll let the piece speak for itself. As with any of my work, constructive criticism is welcomed and requested so I can improve my writing.
Loony Luna Lovegood. That's what they called you: crazy.
You weren't sure if they were right.
It started out simple, a little make-believe here and there to make up for all the things that had gone wrong. Pretending that She was still there for you. Pretending your father didn't wince every time he saw Her eyes in your face.
Pretending, pretending, pretending -
You've drifted into a fantasy.
You know it can't last forever. Reality always catches up, right? Yet you can't stop. You need this world you live in to keep you from the constant aching. It hurts too much to let go, so much that today's heart-ease seems to be worth a lot more than tomorrow's heartbreak.
As it continues, you fall deeper and deeper in. Two worlds clash against one another. You see the Nargles and the Wrackspurts. You see the real world and its darkness too, the darkness ripping at the shield of insane dreaming that is the only thing which keeps you from sinking into insane despair.
People try to force you to let go of the fantasy, to give up those glowing creatures of your own imagination as though they're just a bad habit, not the foundation of the life you live. They don't know about all the other things you're pretending, the things you need to hold yourself together.
Sometimes you want to give it up. Despite the comfort these figments of your imagination provide, you know they aren't right. But you are already trapped in this web you've woven for yourself. With them, at least you are noticed. People give you odd looks, but the ones who think they understand picture you as standing up for your own beliefs. Finally some people are proud of you, and you can't bear to let them know that you're just a coward who can't stand up to the world around her. You can't slip back into being all alone, so you pretend that that's impossible too.
The danger comes closer and you fight, but it's all surreal. Even in the heat of battle, as you send out curse after curse, you're not sure who it is that's fighting. The more you pretend, the less you know what is real and what is part of that fantasy world inside your head.
The war ends and everyone celebrates. You cheer too - that's what they expect- but in your mind, the fight hasn't ended. It never will. You wish you had kept the darkness outside, but you fought the war within your imagination, and now, no matter how far you run, you won't be able to escape the demons within your head.
You're a war hero now. Nobody calls you "Loony Luna Lovegood" anymore. But when you break down, they say you have "Spell shock" and you know they're still calling you crazy.
You suppose they're probably right.
I don't own anything recognizable from Harry Potter.