All standard disclaimers apply.
Dear diary,
I hate it you know. The stares, the whispers, the constant nudges that people give to each other when I walk by. I've never understood the apparent fascination that people have with me. I mean, I'm just a kid right?
People do not seem to think so. They think that I'm wonderful, that I'm awesome, that I'm.perfect. I hate it. Maybe if people did not overestimate me I would have an easier time with life. Maybe if people did not expect me to be some sort of mini-Dumbledore I would not have such a hard time.
But what I feel does not matter. Apparently I'm perfect. And perfect people do not feel emotions like sadness and hatred and grief. Perfect people do not want to kill. They do not want to make the person who killed their godfather die in the slowest, most painful manner imaginable.
Oh well. Whoopsie doo! I'm not perfect! I'm a scared sixteen-year-old boy who just lost the most important person in his life! But apparently I'm not allowed to grieve; I'm supposed to get over it. Just another event in my life, who cares that Sirius died? After all, perfect people do not waste their time on grief when they could be doing something more productive.
The worst part of it is that it's starting to blur. I cannot force myself to care anymore if the world expects me to be perfect or not. I just cannot. This is the first year that I'm really dreading going back to Hogwarts. I know that when I go back ill be expected to be Perfect Potter again.
I do not know if I can do that.
Oh well, what does it matter anyway? The world is deteriorating around me and even though I'm supposed to be perfect I cannot find it in myself to care. Maybe it will be different in the morning, maybe I wont feel so bloody numb. But right now, I cannot find it in myself to care. If the world were looking at me it would laugh. Perfect Potter is falling apart.
Harry Potter
Dear diary,
I hate it you know. The stares, the whispers, the constant nudges that people give to each other when I walk by. I've never understood the apparent fascination that people have with me. I mean, I'm just a kid right?
People do not seem to think so. They think that I'm wonderful, that I'm awesome, that I'm.perfect. I hate it. Maybe if people did not overestimate me I would have an easier time with life. Maybe if people did not expect me to be some sort of mini-Dumbledore I would not have such a hard time.
But what I feel does not matter. Apparently I'm perfect. And perfect people do not feel emotions like sadness and hatred and grief. Perfect people do not want to kill. They do not want to make the person who killed their godfather die in the slowest, most painful manner imaginable.
Oh well. Whoopsie doo! I'm not perfect! I'm a scared sixteen-year-old boy who just lost the most important person in his life! But apparently I'm not allowed to grieve; I'm supposed to get over it. Just another event in my life, who cares that Sirius died? After all, perfect people do not waste their time on grief when they could be doing something more productive.
The worst part of it is that it's starting to blur. I cannot force myself to care anymore if the world expects me to be perfect or not. I just cannot. This is the first year that I'm really dreading going back to Hogwarts. I know that when I go back ill be expected to be Perfect Potter again.
I do not know if I can do that.
Oh well, what does it matter anyway? The world is deteriorating around me and even though I'm supposed to be perfect I cannot find it in myself to care. Maybe it will be different in the morning, maybe I wont feel so bloody numb. But right now, I cannot find it in myself to care. If the world were looking at me it would laugh. Perfect Potter is falling apart.
Harry Potter