Summary-Basically, this is Draco Malfoy admitting to himself that he is emotionless and the world sucks. One-Shot. First Fic. Sort of PG I guess, not to much more to be said. Oh, and Draco watches TV and knows what a gun is, just incase you are wondering about why he knows what these things are.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the JK Rowling and Warner Brothers empire I just like to trespass on their property.
AN. I was always told to write what I know, write what I know? What do I know. That friends worthy of me are hard to come by, people are liars and cheats and paranoia runs rampant through my mind. So I will write what I know: life. Though this isn't it, just a fan fiction for Harry Potter. Yet, sometimes life feels like this.
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Emotion
It begins and Ends
Strange how so many underestimate the few that stray from the well- conceived plan. Those too blind to follow the beaten path tag along behind those who are too dense to ask a mere question to the direction they are about to get lost in.
Yet, when you take that dive off the cliff, you almost always cease to soar and plunge to a rock-laden gorge only to be picked up by that caravan of bumbling fools on the path to nowhere. I want to take that plunge, I want to hit the bottom only to feel what it's like to reach the top and have it all come screaming back down on you ten fold. I need that emotion because I live in an emotionless, shit-filled, sugarcoated home let alone the manure pile that is the world.
Can you feel my pessimism? I do. It's the only emotion I can fathom a response from, that and sarcasm, not even an emotion more of a state of mind, which I find dripping from my sour tongue ever three phrases I speak. I need to feel something maybe pain? Pain has never affected me, life has de-sensitized that for me, and TV has only re-in forced that loss. I laugh at a train wreck, smile at a burning home and whoop at a beating of some kid in first year.
Then I should try sympathy, pity, remorse. No. Watch me care about the starving children, the rape victims the beaten and broken, Harry Potter, No. I feel nothing. I almost envy them for feeling such bliss that is pain, yet I feel no release of emotion as I try and feel like them. There's nothing. Anger has never crept up on me, maybe because I keep things bottled up, I seal the lid on arguments and squabbles. They are nothing to me.
Maybe when I fill that bottle inside I can pour it in some drain of a person. No. I only fill it with booze and watch my anger seep on the bathroom floor never really out, just around. Just pessimism left now, all the others forgotten and unused. I am slowly still opening the wrappings to sadness and loneliness. Kudos to me. Still a thousand layers left.
I just bury my feelings when should they arise in stupidity. The dumber people think you are the more surprised they will be when you finally spill the truth to them. So, I will keep my cool, never lose face and when that fateful day comes, shoot my way out of a public place and end it all there. So I can feel that emotion burst out of me like a water balloon on a hot June day. That is all I want. Emotion.
The mindless ponderings of Draco Malfoy.
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Written by Swiftrunner, If you feel like reviewing, give it a shot. I might read one of your stories one day and return the favor.
Thanks anyway.