A/N: Despite my worshipping of them both, I am neither J.K. Rowling nor Edgar Allan Poe. I just use J.K.R.'s characters make Poe's wonderful poetry look really bad.

A Dream Within a Dream

"I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore
And hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand
How few! Yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep
While I weep…. While I weep!
O God, can I not grasp them in a tighter clasp?
O God, can I not save one from the pitiless wave?..."

It seems strange to contemplate one's own sanity, do you agree? I find that I have done so myself… a number of times, in fact. Questioned my very life. This will probably merely come across as the ramblings of one who has been alone too long, to insufferably broken for too long, but it seems almost calming to know that someone, be it someone who I have met or not, has listened. Disregard me if you will- as so many have done before. I will fully understand if you choose to do so. Understand that the… story, if you will, that I am to pen is, admittedly, rather outlandish.

You see, my fair reader, this all really stems from my lycanthropy. It is what gave me my original inability to believe in the sanctity of people. I suppose today that I would not be so hardened against people if I was not cursed, in this particular manner of speaking. I remember as a child, even before I was bitten, I was singularly closed off from others. I now so wish that I had used that short, blessed time to my advantage. I recall how always made a practice of trying to close off all emotion after that truly life-changing event.

But when I came to school, and met my friends, my four benevolent, brilliant friends, it became rather difficult. For a time, after we had dispelled all of our secrets from one another, that I could actually associate with people. That it was indeed possible for others to like me, completely accept me. I almost scoff at such a thought now.

I ask you in all honesty, my dear listener, have you ever lost someone? For days, it seems, weeks, months, even, that there is always a deep sense of isolation. As though no one can understand the depth of your despair. It is like drowning, losing oneself, enveloped only in wistful thoughts and cherished memories. I wonder why, even after the anguish has subsided, that I still feel so far away from people. And that, kind sir or miss, is the source of my vaguely poignant questioning. Why can I not allow myself to trust people again? It seems too completely fathomless…. I trusted people once…. Why can I not now? Why do I find that I cannot divulge my feelings to others? I sometimes think that this would be the death of me- literally. I can picture it now, a very small obituary in the muggle newspaper telling of how some obscure man who lived alone died of a brain aneurysm purely out of mental stress.

I cannot trust others as I once did- no, people are far too easily lost. I do not want to risk getting hurt again. This is also why I have avoided the situation with Miss Tonks for so long. Not only do I certainly not find any romantic interest with the girl, but even chancing this, for her sake rather than mine, is too dangerous. She has her whole life ahead of her, being the smart young woman that she is. She has an actual chance at living wholly that I never myself had. Is it fair to her, even if she is willing to do so, to throw her future away? To take away her chance? No, I refuse to be that callous. I am sure, after a time, that she would grow to resent me for the consequences of actions she once thought satisfactory. I do not know what I would possibly do if I allowed myself to become close to someone again and see them be taken away just as easily, even if it is not to death.

Though she may think it selfish on my part now, she will see. As I have stated, she is exceedingly intelligent. She will understand in time. Even so, it is difficult to see her look so saddened. As though her life is being taken by my refusal. I have- almost, mind you- wondered if it would be better to allow her in. Maybe talking to her could help me realize that I still have emotions. For all I know, she could be a saviour, the realization that I have been searching for. But that, in itself, is far more selfish than refusing her. Putting on a charade, trying to make sense of my life, by pretending to love somebody! I can never allow myself to love! The very thought is blatantly ludicrous. If I merely used her to understand myself again, how would she feel when she found that I had never really loved her?… I shudder at the very thought.

To conclude my ramblings, my thankfully patient acquaintance, I leave you with this: I believe that drowning in misery, no matter how much it seems to hurt you, and make you feel powerless, is better than not feeling at all. As I have noted, the moment when you feel most saddened, most helpless against the world, is when you can feel your heart beating most prominently. What I would only give to experience that powerful, almost defiant feeling again.

"Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?"- Edgar Allan Poe

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A/N: Ha ha! Now you see my obsession with desolation all spilled out into one boring, completely senseless fan-fic! You also see my demented theory about the Tonks/Lupin affair. Isn't it weird? Also, when I referred to his four friends, I included Lily. As I recall, J.K.R. once said that they were rather close as well as the Marauders were. Shrugs Oh, and, also, forgive my extremely wry humour used when I talk of the brain aneurysm. I wanted to put something that may be interpreted as a bit funny, as vulgar as it may sound. This work makes no sense. It is just my depressing blathering. I loathe it. PLEASE, I implore you, R/R!!