A/N – This is my attempt at explaining the feelings of exclusion and
ostracizing, and the reactions to it. In this story, it is extreme. I
believe that everyone suffers from these kind of feelings; the only
difference is our reaction, depending how severe the dejection and
rejection is.
Luna was drifting through the halls. It was dinner time, and she could hear the chinks of plates, the laughter of everyone at the four tables, and the happy people drinking and eating and filling up their stomachs. Hunger was aching at her stomach, but she would get food later, at the kitchens. After three years of torturously entering the hall for three meals, trying to talk while staying silent, she only went in there for breakfast.
Dreamy as usual, she was lost in her own thoughts. She walked as if she was falling through water; a slow, dreamy feeling. It was just enough to sustain her through walking and getting through hallways. She was so detached from her body and mind, she didn't even notice that she bumped into Hermione Granger.
Hermione was insulted. "Hey, Luna, watch where you're going!" When Luna did not answer, she became cruel. "Why don't you go – go off and find a Crumple-Horned Snorkack?" she spat, a swell of cruel sarcasm rising up. Just before turning, she saw Luna stop walking and turn around. Then she turned so fast her robes made a swishing sound. She expected to hear a snide comment defending those fantasy creations by the dreamy and stupid Loony Lovegood.
But when she heard nothing, she turned. Luna had slid down to the wall, her head slowly falling to one side. Her eyes were filling with silvery tears that dropped silently on her robes. Her eyes were shut. She started to talk as if she had been defeated. It was as if she was facing execution and was saying her last words.
She murmured, "Every insult – every snide remark – everyone laughing – a human is not meant to take such shame and stripped dignity for a long time. Each little thing is only a drop, but enough drops, and it feels like a hurricane. A hurricane in my heart." She clutched at her heart as if it would fall out any second. Her eyes, closed, suddenly snapped open.
Hermione was stunned as Luna started to talk again. "You've got the perfect life. You have both of your birth parents, both that love you. You're the smartest and top student...and I've got nothing. I'm in Ravenclaw; I'm supposed to have the brains, but I'm not as talented as my mother was. And my mother...she died when I was only nine and my horrible dad married a horrible step mom a year after who doesn't love me. And so, I have nothing to believe in except what people tell me." She wiped her tears off with the sleeve of her robes.
"All I want is a friend," she whined softly. "No, no, no. All I want is someone to talk to. But nobody does. I'm all alone in this world, Hermione. I don't exist unless I'm teased—" she gasped as though she just remembered another insult "—and those wounds open up further." She pointed to her heart. "I never recovered from losing my mother, and the wounds rip open even more. Like scraping your hand when it's already been scraped. But those are physical wounds that eventually fully disappear except for a tiny scar. Losing someone never completely heals.
"I believe in fantasy, Hermione, because then I don't have to look at the reality. The allure of fiction is sweet, but only as long as other people see it too. But you, the truth seeker, the book smart and factual girl, always like to disprove me. It's the harsh truth and I accept it, but it hurts. Because in the real world, my mother is dead and I have no family. I'm mocked and teased, I'm friendless, and I've started, almost every day now, to—"
Quite suddenly she took off her robes; she was wearing a Muggle T-shirt and a skirt. Hermione gasped as Luna pulled up her shirt. Her stomach was covered with scars. "Yes, self-inflicted wounds," Luna said gravely, her eyes staring in shock as if she never properly looked at them for the first time.
Abruptly, Hermione looked at Luna's eyes. They were no longer dreamy. As Hermione backed away in horror from Luna's cuts, she saw that were gray and hollow, void of emotion and happiness. Defeat lined her eyes. A scared Luna stared back.
"The Muggle way is best," she said very quietly. "With my wand I feel no pain. With a knife I bleed. No, don't worry," she said hastily, seeing Hermione's stunned face. "I feel – I know – that I'm human, when I bleed. Physically, I'm a human. But just barely, and not emotionally. I don't live anymore; I merely exist from one cut to the next. I don't feel anything but the small gratifying feeling that I can bleed.
"But I don't hate you. I don't have any friendships, but I have no hate. How can I hate you and everyone else? I would also hate an idiot, a stupid person who believes in non-existent stuff. I would hate a crazy person who seems dotty and proud of it, a bitch that whines too much and laughs at the wrong time."
Luna spat out the last sentence as if it was a foul thing. Hermione looked stricken. She was seeing a lonely girl, friendless, self-hating, and self- pitying. She was not loony, Hermione thought. She was depressed and attacking herself both physically and mentally because she had nobody, not even her family. Hermione could never imagine who she would be if her own parents never supported her 100%. She would never have had the courage to ever get off the train at Hogwarts. Hermione's cold anger ebbed into guilt and regret.
Hastily, Luna suddenly pulled up her skirt. All along her inner thigh were long thin scars. She gingerly ran her fingers along the scars and winced in pain twice. Hermione realized she just cut herself again a day or so ago if it still hurt. Hermione felt like she was doused in cold water. How could anyone not notice? Are we all just blind and stupid to other people? Do we only care and notice people we like? Do those that are hated and ostracized become invisible to us all become people like Luna Lovegood, bitter and depressed?
"But...Luna...doesn't anybody ever see in the shower?" she asked. "If you're changing or something?"
"Oh no," she smiled bitterly, "no, no, no. You'd be surprise how many people don't care – more so that as Loony Lovegood, nobody in their right mind would want to associate with me."
But suddenly, Luna's eyes became suddenly wide and fearful, as if she just realized what she done. "Hermione – it's not good to keep it all inside. It becomes you – it consumes you. When you've told it all, there's nothing left, nothing left to survive. The morbid desensitization to touch, feeling, happiness, emotion has left me with nothing but those bad memories, doubts, and insecurities. I've just told all—" Luna looked even more frightened now "—and there's no more to tell."
She pulled down her shirt, smoothed her skirt down, and pulled on her robes. Looking back at a stunned Hermione, she ran back to the Ravenclaw Common Room, her robes whipping across her body.
Luna was drifting through the halls. It was dinner time, and she could hear the chinks of plates, the laughter of everyone at the four tables, and the happy people drinking and eating and filling up their stomachs. Hunger was aching at her stomach, but she would get food later, at the kitchens. After three years of torturously entering the hall for three meals, trying to talk while staying silent, she only went in there for breakfast.
Dreamy as usual, she was lost in her own thoughts. She walked as if she was falling through water; a slow, dreamy feeling. It was just enough to sustain her through walking and getting through hallways. She was so detached from her body and mind, she didn't even notice that she bumped into Hermione Granger.
Hermione was insulted. "Hey, Luna, watch where you're going!" When Luna did not answer, she became cruel. "Why don't you go – go off and find a Crumple-Horned Snorkack?" she spat, a swell of cruel sarcasm rising up. Just before turning, she saw Luna stop walking and turn around. Then she turned so fast her robes made a swishing sound. She expected to hear a snide comment defending those fantasy creations by the dreamy and stupid Loony Lovegood.
But when she heard nothing, she turned. Luna had slid down to the wall, her head slowly falling to one side. Her eyes were filling with silvery tears that dropped silently on her robes. Her eyes were shut. She started to talk as if she had been defeated. It was as if she was facing execution and was saying her last words.
She murmured, "Every insult – every snide remark – everyone laughing – a human is not meant to take such shame and stripped dignity for a long time. Each little thing is only a drop, but enough drops, and it feels like a hurricane. A hurricane in my heart." She clutched at her heart as if it would fall out any second. Her eyes, closed, suddenly snapped open.
Hermione was stunned as Luna started to talk again. "You've got the perfect life. You have both of your birth parents, both that love you. You're the smartest and top student...and I've got nothing. I'm in Ravenclaw; I'm supposed to have the brains, but I'm not as talented as my mother was. And my mother...she died when I was only nine and my horrible dad married a horrible step mom a year after who doesn't love me. And so, I have nothing to believe in except what people tell me." She wiped her tears off with the sleeve of her robes.
"All I want is a friend," she whined softly. "No, no, no. All I want is someone to talk to. But nobody does. I'm all alone in this world, Hermione. I don't exist unless I'm teased—" she gasped as though she just remembered another insult "—and those wounds open up further." She pointed to her heart. "I never recovered from losing my mother, and the wounds rip open even more. Like scraping your hand when it's already been scraped. But those are physical wounds that eventually fully disappear except for a tiny scar. Losing someone never completely heals.
"I believe in fantasy, Hermione, because then I don't have to look at the reality. The allure of fiction is sweet, but only as long as other people see it too. But you, the truth seeker, the book smart and factual girl, always like to disprove me. It's the harsh truth and I accept it, but it hurts. Because in the real world, my mother is dead and I have no family. I'm mocked and teased, I'm friendless, and I've started, almost every day now, to—"
Quite suddenly she took off her robes; she was wearing a Muggle T-shirt and a skirt. Hermione gasped as Luna pulled up her shirt. Her stomach was covered with scars. "Yes, self-inflicted wounds," Luna said gravely, her eyes staring in shock as if she never properly looked at them for the first time.
Abruptly, Hermione looked at Luna's eyes. They were no longer dreamy. As Hermione backed away in horror from Luna's cuts, she saw that were gray and hollow, void of emotion and happiness. Defeat lined her eyes. A scared Luna stared back.
"The Muggle way is best," she said very quietly. "With my wand I feel no pain. With a knife I bleed. No, don't worry," she said hastily, seeing Hermione's stunned face. "I feel – I know – that I'm human, when I bleed. Physically, I'm a human. But just barely, and not emotionally. I don't live anymore; I merely exist from one cut to the next. I don't feel anything but the small gratifying feeling that I can bleed.
"But I don't hate you. I don't have any friendships, but I have no hate. How can I hate you and everyone else? I would also hate an idiot, a stupid person who believes in non-existent stuff. I would hate a crazy person who seems dotty and proud of it, a bitch that whines too much and laughs at the wrong time."
Luna spat out the last sentence as if it was a foul thing. Hermione looked stricken. She was seeing a lonely girl, friendless, self-hating, and self- pitying. She was not loony, Hermione thought. She was depressed and attacking herself both physically and mentally because she had nobody, not even her family. Hermione could never imagine who she would be if her own parents never supported her 100%. She would never have had the courage to ever get off the train at Hogwarts. Hermione's cold anger ebbed into guilt and regret.
Hastily, Luna suddenly pulled up her skirt. All along her inner thigh were long thin scars. She gingerly ran her fingers along the scars and winced in pain twice. Hermione realized she just cut herself again a day or so ago if it still hurt. Hermione felt like she was doused in cold water. How could anyone not notice? Are we all just blind and stupid to other people? Do we only care and notice people we like? Do those that are hated and ostracized become invisible to us all become people like Luna Lovegood, bitter and depressed?
"But...Luna...doesn't anybody ever see in the shower?" she asked. "If you're changing or something?"
"Oh no," she smiled bitterly, "no, no, no. You'd be surprise how many people don't care – more so that as Loony Lovegood, nobody in their right mind would want to associate with me."
But suddenly, Luna's eyes became suddenly wide and fearful, as if she just realized what she done. "Hermione – it's not good to keep it all inside. It becomes you – it consumes you. When you've told it all, there's nothing left, nothing left to survive. The morbid desensitization to touch, feeling, happiness, emotion has left me with nothing but those bad memories, doubts, and insecurities. I've just told all—" Luna looked even more frightened now "—and there's no more to tell."
She pulled down her shirt, smoothed her skirt down, and pulled on her robes. Looking back at a stunned Hermione, she ran back to the Ravenclaw Common Room, her robes whipping across her body.