Disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter. He belongs to J. K. Rowling.
Warnings: Harry POV. Slightly depressing and me thinking too much again.
Author's Note: Just a short drabble. I was trying to get the inspiration flowing when this popped into my head and I just wrote down whatever came to mind.
Colored Darkness
It's not that I don't have any words for it.
I can't have any words for it. That's how it should be. Putting a name on it, using a word to describe it and giving it form when I'd much rather it stayed shapeless. I'd rather not ponder about it, but I fail at that. I'm thinking about it right now. Aren't I?
So much for my resolution.
It's not that easy is it? Not thinking about it. It sneaks through the crevices and cracks, creeping up on you from behind, the sides and front. Below and above. You know it's coming yet you do nothing to stop it. You deny it. That's what you do and you tell yourself that it's not your voice making those sounds when no one's paying attention. Because you tell yourself that it doesn't exist, it's not there and it's not clogging up your heart and squeezing your lungs. A painful weight in your stomach.
What does it matter? It's not like you have any use of those organs anymore anyway, right? So why mourn your decaying internals. Do what you have kept doing until now and pretend that you don't know. That you don't feel it.
It's not that you're being ignorant of other's feelings for you. It's not that you're ignoring your own emotions. What is there to ignore, right? It doesn't exist. It's not there. You can't deny what's not there in the first place. What's to argue with logic like that, after all?
You're not tapping on the same key on the piano, over and over again. It's all according to your plans and there's nothing wrong with them. You're satisfied with your single tone melody. You won't allow any miscalculations and it will all go as you've decided they will.
Do you know how many colors there are in darkness?
The eyes see so much more than I even dare to admit. At the same time as it's clouding my eyes it's making my vision clearer. Sharply clearer. How can something without a firm form be so smothering? How can there be so many differences between darkness and darkness? From black to black?
I see darkness. I look at it and I watch it. What it's doing to my body and my eyes, my head that's full it and empty of it. It's like I cling to what I still believe to be real. What I can still wrap my fingers around and pull to my chest and sense the hard contours against my skin.
It's like that single key note on the piano. That play a single tune melody, over and over again. And yet again I deny it, and my eyes are colored darkness.