A dream...a dream is all my life has become...a nightmare. A nightmare always,
even when I wake up.
I look at myself in the mirror and I frown. I look at the person who is me, the person that I've become, the person that I wish I could make go away...the person I tried so hard during my sixteen years of existence to kill. The person I've grown to hate. The person...me.
If I could change my life, I would, and I often dream about. I often wish so strongly with such a burning passion that I could have changed the way I became, changed the person I was. I stare deep into my once lively eyes, now hollow empty shells, cold and stone, with no meaning behind them. I am that of a corpse, a dead corpse so longing to be freed from the pain that torments my inner soul every day.
I am immortal—I cannot die, for I am already dead, therefore everyday is a struggle. Everyday is a struggle to breath, to wake up, to move, to give myself a will to live. I don't want to live. My attempts at ending my pathetic life have all been in vain—so pathetic I do not even harbor enough courage to end the life I so pathetically have lived. Pathetic...one word which describes myself so. Pathetic.
Why am I pathetic? I don't have to be this way...I wasn't always pathetic. I was once happy with who I was. I once smiled, I was laughed, I once...was. No longer, no, no more do I laugh, no more do I smile, no more do I anything. I am but a hollow existence roaming my world with an intangible breathing so quiet and quietly crazy.
Quietly crazy...that is who I am. I have so labored in my lifetime to make sure those around me were safe and warm, while I went quietly crazy. Nobody knew who I really was, no one cared, they went to me, Ginny Weasley, to seek advice, to make themselves feel better. To suck the little self confidence I had left in me all to themselves. It exhausted me, but...I as immortal. I couldn't die, for I was already dead.
And so it went that I fell in love. Love, what a cold, distant, unreal thing. Love does not exist—love is not real. But to me, I thought it was love. I wanted it to be love. Was it love? For it was not, for I couldn't have my love. The eyes of my love have never graced my meek state full of desire, the lips of my love have never uttered my name with passion. I have never spoken to my love the way I wanted to, for it could be the end of all doing. But this love...this love that I watched from afar, this love that I poured my soul and emotions into was ripped from me, ripped from me before my very sight. Ripped from me by my own friend, one I thought I knew.
And so here I am, cold, distant, hard, alone. Betrayed, pathetic, lonely...alone. So unbelievably alone. No one can begin to understand what I feel. I have been there for my love through everything, spilt tears on my loves behalf, and they do not know it, nor ever will know that there was a time where I would have willingly died for them. No, all that is left is a cold bitterness where my heart should be.
And so ends my pathetic tell of who I have come to be, all over some silly boy. A silly boy who I loved, and caused me so much pain. I no longer have friends, no longer have a family I love, no longer have anybody. A stupid mistake, a stupid person I was to be so selfish as to even try and rip my love and his love apart. It wasn't me, only it was. If only I had kept being the nice, polite girl everyone knew Ginny Weasley to be. If only I had kept to myself...but know...I caused pain and turmoil...all the pain and turmoil that I had been through so many times...to love someone so much that it hurts is an unbelievable thing.
But love is no longer apart of me. I no longer think of my love, I no longer look at my love. No...love is but a dream of an idle mind. The children of an idle mind...dreams are...
A dream. That is all my life has become...a dream. Just a dream. That's all it has become, all it ever will be. It shall be forgotten...but I won't back out this time. No one can stop me this time. I'm through with being pathetic...I'm no longer the nice, polite girl so many see me to be. No...I feel the dagger slip slowly across my wrists and my eyes roll back in pure ecstasy as I slip into a black void.
A dream...a dream is all my life has become. A nightmare. A cold, lonely, forgettable, tortured nightmare. But this time...this time I do not wake up.
I look at myself in the mirror and I frown. I look at the person who is me, the person that I've become, the person that I wish I could make go away...the person I tried so hard during my sixteen years of existence to kill. The person I've grown to hate. The person...me.
If I could change my life, I would, and I often dream about. I often wish so strongly with such a burning passion that I could have changed the way I became, changed the person I was. I stare deep into my once lively eyes, now hollow empty shells, cold and stone, with no meaning behind them. I am that of a corpse, a dead corpse so longing to be freed from the pain that torments my inner soul every day.
I am immortal—I cannot die, for I am already dead, therefore everyday is a struggle. Everyday is a struggle to breath, to wake up, to move, to give myself a will to live. I don't want to live. My attempts at ending my pathetic life have all been in vain—so pathetic I do not even harbor enough courage to end the life I so pathetically have lived. Pathetic...one word which describes myself so. Pathetic.
Why am I pathetic? I don't have to be this way...I wasn't always pathetic. I was once happy with who I was. I once smiled, I was laughed, I once...was. No longer, no, no more do I laugh, no more do I smile, no more do I anything. I am but a hollow existence roaming my world with an intangible breathing so quiet and quietly crazy.
Quietly crazy...that is who I am. I have so labored in my lifetime to make sure those around me were safe and warm, while I went quietly crazy. Nobody knew who I really was, no one cared, they went to me, Ginny Weasley, to seek advice, to make themselves feel better. To suck the little self confidence I had left in me all to themselves. It exhausted me, but...I as immortal. I couldn't die, for I was already dead.
And so it went that I fell in love. Love, what a cold, distant, unreal thing. Love does not exist—love is not real. But to me, I thought it was love. I wanted it to be love. Was it love? For it was not, for I couldn't have my love. The eyes of my love have never graced my meek state full of desire, the lips of my love have never uttered my name with passion. I have never spoken to my love the way I wanted to, for it could be the end of all doing. But this love...this love that I watched from afar, this love that I poured my soul and emotions into was ripped from me, ripped from me before my very sight. Ripped from me by my own friend, one I thought I knew.
And so here I am, cold, distant, hard, alone. Betrayed, pathetic, lonely...alone. So unbelievably alone. No one can begin to understand what I feel. I have been there for my love through everything, spilt tears on my loves behalf, and they do not know it, nor ever will know that there was a time where I would have willingly died for them. No, all that is left is a cold bitterness where my heart should be.
And so ends my pathetic tell of who I have come to be, all over some silly boy. A silly boy who I loved, and caused me so much pain. I no longer have friends, no longer have a family I love, no longer have anybody. A stupid mistake, a stupid person I was to be so selfish as to even try and rip my love and his love apart. It wasn't me, only it was. If only I had kept being the nice, polite girl everyone knew Ginny Weasley to be. If only I had kept to myself...but know...I caused pain and turmoil...all the pain and turmoil that I had been through so many times...to love someone so much that it hurts is an unbelievable thing.
But love is no longer apart of me. I no longer think of my love, I no longer look at my love. No...love is but a dream of an idle mind. The children of an idle mind...dreams are...
A dream. That is all my life has become...a dream. Just a dream. That's all it has become, all it ever will be. It shall be forgotten...but I won't back out this time. No one can stop me this time. I'm through with being pathetic...I'm no longer the nice, polite girl so many see me to be. No...I feel the dagger slip slowly across my wrists and my eyes roll back in pure ecstasy as I slip into a black void.
A dream...a dream is all my life has become. A nightmare. A cold, lonely, forgettable, tortured nightmare. But this time...this time I do not wake up.