Title: My Dirty Little Secret (Kill Myself)
Summary: Inspired by Dirty Little Secret, by The All-American Rejects. Harry has a dirty little secret...
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not do this for profit. yadayadayada...
During my ten-minute-break I prompted myself to write something inspired by Dirty Little Secret, by The All-American Rejects. They hold up cards in the video, and they gave me several music video of the song is based on the PostSecret project, where people share their secrets on postcards. These cards are sent anonymously to the project, and some are posted on the PostSecret website. The video shows a montage of people holding up PostSecret postcards, which reveal a range of fears, embarrassment, love, deception, sadness and wishes. During the video, The All-American Rejects perform "Dirty Little Secret", cutting to clips of the people holding up their secrets. [100 Thanks to .1994 who told me about the PostSecret Project!] In the following dabble, the prompt is in bolds.
Hope you enjoy it!
It's actually kind of funny, in a no-laughing kind of way. Three years ago, I tried to kill myself.
They all understood. With their bloody smiles and their compassionate eyes and freaking superiority, their patronising voices, their pats on the back, thinking they knew better, not even knowing why. They thought I tried to kill myself out of grieving, because I couldn't deal with Sirius' death. How lame.
They never knew it wasn't my first try, or that Sirius was actually the only reason I hadn't attempted it again, and now that the only person that knew was gone... well, things had gotten quite easier, that's for sure.
I may have loved Sirius to bits, as much as I could love anyone anyway, but he was always standing in the way, stopping me just before I could reach freedom, get to my eternal rest.
Now I'm 18 and people say I'm happy...
They all think everything's fine. For three years they have closely watched me, too worried about losing their saviour before I defeated Voldemort, but now that he's gone they'll stop looking, either because they don't care anymore or because they think I wont try anything now. They don't understand. Voldemort was the least of my problems. I never worked on the same scale as they did.
But I still want to die...
And soon I will get my wish. Few people suspect.
Maybe Neville will notice, but I can trust him to keep this to himself. He cuts himself, I wish to die; there is no need for words between those who are broken. We speak the same language.
I hope Luna will take good care of him. They are both broken, hurt little things, but they are not beyond repair. Not like I am.
Not like I soon will be.
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R&R? pretty please?