1 the real me... what I think
I need someone. Some one to talk to, a friend. Someone who wont change their mind because of what I say. Someone to share my problems with. Someone who tries to understand. Someone who will dig me out of my safe shelter and help me live my life. I thought I would get that 5 years ago. I though hogwarts would change everything for me. But it was not so. No one tries to get to know me. I know you will say that I have Harry and Ron what more can I want. I don't know maybe someone who asks me about my home life! Maybe someone who doesn't assume things!
I bet if you asked anyone in hogwarts about Miss Hermione Granger they would reply
"Muggle-born book worm"
That's what people think of me!! A BOOKWORM !!! The only reason I read is because no one would talk to me anyways so that would be a great way to pass the time! I hate working hard. Half the time I only do my work because I am tired of being talked to about mindless things. A perfect example of this is Quittich! Do they ever shut up? Like really there is only so much you can talk about a game on brooms that never changes!
Then there's that Muggle-born part. Are people INSANE? I am not a muggle-born I am as pureblood as Malfoy! But dose anyone look beyond the fact that people that aren't magical can still be squibs? Of course not because everyone in this damm school is completely close minded. My family is one in which every male of the name granger is a squib. I knew I was going to be a which ever since my grandmother told me when I was a baby! It is a bit ironic though.... Malfoy calls me a Mudblood every chance he gets even if it's not true. I wonder how he would react if I told him.
I need help. If I don't converse with an intelligent human being I will go crazy. I should have accepted the hat's first offer of Slytherin. It would have been so much better. Then again I wouldn't have met Harry, that would have been horrible. He is the greatest person I know. He is so hot! With that hair...ooo I love black hair.. And his eyes they are so open. He is the opposite of me.
I am so closed. I need to be dug out. Help I need someone. I've carved it into my arm, it doesn't help at all. I almost wish I were brave enough to complete that final slit and end my torture. But I can't. I almost feel as if I am waiting for someone. Waiting for my help.
Who will help me though... no one knows.. No one cares...
No one will remember me.... sure my parents might but they wont know if I find a good place to do it....
I'll do it eventually. But now I just think that I'll add a bit more to my message.
HELP I NEED SOMEONE bWHO CAR/b
Harry rushed into the room with the most adorable smile on his face.
"Hermione com...."
He looked over at me where I sat with my knife begging to complete my plea. His expression turned to one of shock, His beautiful eyes widening at the sight of the blood that was running down my arm.
"Why?" he asked weakly his eyes welling up with tears at the thought of his friend doing something so horrible to themselves.
"Don't pretend that you care Harry"
Tears started to flow down my cheeks.
"Don't pretend..." I repeated again. Whishing for his eyes to stop looking so sad. Begging him to go.. To leave me to my misery, to my whole of darkness.
"Hermione... why?" His eyes finally releasing the tears which cascaded down his cheeks unchecked.
"What happened?" He insisted. Begging for it to all be a joke.
"Nothing Harry, don't you understand? Nothing changed, nothing happened. No one tries to understand me Harry, no one ever will." I screamed at him, whishing for him to stop pretending that he cared.
I ran out of the room. Knife still in hand. Scaring first-years as I continued my trek downwards. I stopped in the common room. Searching for a way to continue my journey out of the castle. The knife drew gasps from all the students. The blood a few screams. I don't care anymore. I ran out of the portrait. And continued to my secret place. A place no one knew about. Not even the marauders. It was my dark hole. No one would try to get me out.
It is safe here. Inside myself.
I need someone. Some one to talk to, a friend. Someone who wont change their mind because of what I say. Someone to share my problems with. Someone who tries to understand. Someone who will dig me out of my safe shelter and help me live my life. I thought I would get that 5 years ago. I though hogwarts would change everything for me. But it was not so. No one tries to get to know me. I know you will say that I have Harry and Ron what more can I want. I don't know maybe someone who asks me about my home life! Maybe someone who doesn't assume things!
I bet if you asked anyone in hogwarts about Miss Hermione Granger they would reply
"Muggle-born book worm"
That's what people think of me!! A BOOKWORM !!! The only reason I read is because no one would talk to me anyways so that would be a great way to pass the time! I hate working hard. Half the time I only do my work because I am tired of being talked to about mindless things. A perfect example of this is Quittich! Do they ever shut up? Like really there is only so much you can talk about a game on brooms that never changes!
Then there's that Muggle-born part. Are people INSANE? I am not a muggle-born I am as pureblood as Malfoy! But dose anyone look beyond the fact that people that aren't magical can still be squibs? Of course not because everyone in this damm school is completely close minded. My family is one in which every male of the name granger is a squib. I knew I was going to be a which ever since my grandmother told me when I was a baby! It is a bit ironic though.... Malfoy calls me a Mudblood every chance he gets even if it's not true. I wonder how he would react if I told him.
I need help. If I don't converse with an intelligent human being I will go crazy. I should have accepted the hat's first offer of Slytherin. It would have been so much better. Then again I wouldn't have met Harry, that would have been horrible. He is the greatest person I know. He is so hot! With that hair...ooo I love black hair.. And his eyes they are so open. He is the opposite of me.
I am so closed. I need to be dug out. Help I need someone. I've carved it into my arm, it doesn't help at all. I almost wish I were brave enough to complete that final slit and end my torture. But I can't. I almost feel as if I am waiting for someone. Waiting for my help.
Who will help me though... no one knows.. No one cares...
No one will remember me.... sure my parents might but they wont know if I find a good place to do it....
I'll do it eventually. But now I just think that I'll add a bit more to my message.
HELP I NEED SOMEONE bWHO CAR/b
Harry rushed into the room with the most adorable smile on his face.
"Hermione com...."
He looked over at me where I sat with my knife begging to complete my plea. His expression turned to one of shock, His beautiful eyes widening at the sight of the blood that was running down my arm.
"Why?" he asked weakly his eyes welling up with tears at the thought of his friend doing something so horrible to themselves.
"Don't pretend that you care Harry"
Tears started to flow down my cheeks.
"Don't pretend..." I repeated again. Whishing for his eyes to stop looking so sad. Begging him to go.. To leave me to my misery, to my whole of darkness.
"Hermione... why?" His eyes finally releasing the tears which cascaded down his cheeks unchecked.
"What happened?" He insisted. Begging for it to all be a joke.
"Nothing Harry, don't you understand? Nothing changed, nothing happened. No one tries to understand me Harry, no one ever will." I screamed at him, whishing for him to stop pretending that he cared.
I ran out of the room. Knife still in hand. Scaring first-years as I continued my trek downwards. I stopped in the common room. Searching for a way to continue my journey out of the castle. The knife drew gasps from all the students. The blood a few screams. I don't care anymore. I ran out of the portrait. And continued to my secret place. A place no one knew about. Not even the marauders. It was my dark hole. No one would try to get me out.
It is safe here. Inside myself.