It's the small things. It always is. People don't usually notice them as people snap due to the small things. In life, most people thought that Lily Evans had a good life, at least the people who didn't know her. In Hogwarts, the students would tell you that she had friends, but never able to tell you who her friends are, except for Hagrid the gamekeeper and the fact that she was usually the brunt of the jokes played in the school. In her neighborhood the residents there would tell you the Evans had only one daughter and a distant relative who visited every summer. In actual fact? Her life sucked. She looked at what was known as Diagon Alley, she saw people walking around her. Busy streets, happy people. It was driving her nuts. She looked at her hands, her eyes slowly traveling up her arms and into the busy street. She seemed to wince before straightening her body up and walking into the streets to get her supplies. Some people waved to her, sometimes she smiled back, but her emerald eyes seem to be hollow or full of an emotion that most people her age should never have. Her eyes, emerald green, never genuinely happy, full of experiences that no one wishes to have. She could be called cynical or even caustic at times, she was actually, but usually when she was, the person who said that would look into her eyes and suddenly feel afraid or remorseful. She was in her sixth year at Hogwarts and had never made a friend. The teachers however, absolutely loved her, she had fantastic grades and was a prefect since fourth year, but no one knew or cared. Welcome to the sick, sad life of Lily Marie Evans. Filled with pain, suffering and problems.