A/N: Three 100-word drabbles. Y'know, these things are harder to write
than they look! Seriously --go try it, you'll see what I mean!
Incidentally, if anyone knows where I nicked the title from, I shall be
impressed!
Disclaimer: If you really believe that I own this, I'm perfectly happy for
you to send me money.
~~
The Tattered Shreds Of My Divinity
Maybe the moment I first realised that it had all got too much for me was
when Sirius died. Not immediately - it took a while to sink in. I didn't
really cry until about two weeks after it happened. It was the summer
holidays, and I was sitting in my room, trying not to think too much about
the past year, and to ignore the almost unbearable, and by then, constant
pain from my scar. To take my mind off it, I started writing. I was
halfway through a letter to Sirius, before it struck me: he's gone. He's
gone.
Or maybe it was later, at the beginning of the war, when I started to
notice to what extent all these people were putting their hopes in me.
They built their expectations into a shell around me, but they didn't
notice that my real self was slowly withering and dying, until only the
shell remained. I couldn't cope with all the responsibility placed on me,
when I was, in all fairness, still a child. And now, although I am still
only a child, they expect me to go and fight an unspeakable evil, and,
moreover, they expect me to win.
Or maybe I have felt like this for longer than even I realise. But none of
that matters anymore. The only thing that matters now is that it did get
too much for me, and that this is my only means of escape. I realise that
as long as I live, the expectations of others will render me unable to be
truly alive. I watch the blood drip from my wrists, marking my pale skin
red: the colour of Gryffindor. I smile - I feel no pain. I know that only
now, after all this time, can I be truly free.
~~
A/N: Oh, yea gods. it's awful! If it's any excuse, I wrote this late last
night, and I wasn't much awake.
than they look! Seriously --go try it, you'll see what I mean!
Incidentally, if anyone knows where I nicked the title from, I shall be
impressed!
Disclaimer: If you really believe that I own this, I'm perfectly happy for
you to send me money.
~~
The Tattered Shreds Of My Divinity
Maybe the moment I first realised that it had all got too much for me was
when Sirius died. Not immediately - it took a while to sink in. I didn't
really cry until about two weeks after it happened. It was the summer
holidays, and I was sitting in my room, trying not to think too much about
the past year, and to ignore the almost unbearable, and by then, constant
pain from my scar. To take my mind off it, I started writing. I was
halfway through a letter to Sirius, before it struck me: he's gone. He's
gone.
Or maybe it was later, at the beginning of the war, when I started to
notice to what extent all these people were putting their hopes in me.
They built their expectations into a shell around me, but they didn't
notice that my real self was slowly withering and dying, until only the
shell remained. I couldn't cope with all the responsibility placed on me,
when I was, in all fairness, still a child. And now, although I am still
only a child, they expect me to go and fight an unspeakable evil, and,
moreover, they expect me to win.
Or maybe I have felt like this for longer than even I realise. But none of
that matters anymore. The only thing that matters now is that it did get
too much for me, and that this is my only means of escape. I realise that
as long as I live, the expectations of others will render me unable to be
truly alive. I watch the blood drip from my wrists, marking my pale skin
red: the colour of Gryffindor. I smile - I feel no pain. I know that only
now, after all this time, can I be truly free.
~~
A/N: Oh, yea gods. it's awful! If it's any excuse, I wrote this late last
night, and I wasn't much awake.