Hermione's Diary
Authors note: I wrote this when I was...just feeling weird, don't ask. I know its kinda short, but it's deep, or I think it is, oh well, just review.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hermione or Harry!
Dear Diary,
I see lighting in the distance and cloudy skies, yet the air is still warm, the wind blows through the bushes and trees. I am depressed, a feeling that cannot be matched in badness and loneliness. This is a world, a world without Harry. I feel like dying. I would kill myself to be with him, but as his dying wish he made me promise to have a long and healthy life, full of love. This is harder for me than anyone can imagine.
The breeze is becoming harder and the dust flies into my eyes. I would try and get it out, but it seems I am no longer feeling physical pain, only emotional. Sometimes I want the lightening to hit me and strike me dead, like it did for him. I could pretend that there is nothing left for me, but that is not the truth.
I moved away though, but it wasn't like I was running away from my problems, well, in a sense yes but, I was forced to move. If I hadn't, Voldemort would have certainly killed me, and Harry made me promise to live and thrive. I am not thriving, I have to life here, no friends. I would just stay home and cry, but I can't, because I promised him, and I don't break my promises.
I will be starting at a muggle school soon, not for lack of trying to avoid it. I feel raindrops on my cheeks as the wind gets even stronger, and my tears and the raindrops are mixed. Why did I have to love him? Because he's Harry, I answer my own question, and there will never be another like him. Raindrops surround me, maybe I should go inside, but I can't write that well inside, I am not free in that home. I decided to move outside, where it's a bit drier.
I can no longer hide my torrents of tears as I gaze across the street and see a young couple holding hands, anything and everything reminds me of him. I can't see the point in living, if living is like this.
Your faithful companion,
Hermione L. Potter
Authors note: I wrote this when I was...just feeling weird, don't ask. I know its kinda short, but it's deep, or I think it is, oh well, just review.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hermione or Harry!
Dear Diary,
I see lighting in the distance and cloudy skies, yet the air is still warm, the wind blows through the bushes and trees. I am depressed, a feeling that cannot be matched in badness and loneliness. This is a world, a world without Harry. I feel like dying. I would kill myself to be with him, but as his dying wish he made me promise to have a long and healthy life, full of love. This is harder for me than anyone can imagine.
The breeze is becoming harder and the dust flies into my eyes. I would try and get it out, but it seems I am no longer feeling physical pain, only emotional. Sometimes I want the lightening to hit me and strike me dead, like it did for him. I could pretend that there is nothing left for me, but that is not the truth.
I moved away though, but it wasn't like I was running away from my problems, well, in a sense yes but, I was forced to move. If I hadn't, Voldemort would have certainly killed me, and Harry made me promise to live and thrive. I am not thriving, I have to life here, no friends. I would just stay home and cry, but I can't, because I promised him, and I don't break my promises.
I will be starting at a muggle school soon, not for lack of trying to avoid it. I feel raindrops on my cheeks as the wind gets even stronger, and my tears and the raindrops are mixed. Why did I have to love him? Because he's Harry, I answer my own question, and there will never be another like him. Raindrops surround me, maybe I should go inside, but I can't write that well inside, I am not free in that home. I decided to move outside, where it's a bit drier.
I can no longer hide my torrents of tears as I gaze across the street and see a young couple holding hands, anything and everything reminds me of him. I can't see the point in living, if living is like this.
Your faithful companion,
Hermione L. Potter