'FALLING'
The city seems so bright. So full of life. So full of action and happiness. But I'm not. I used to be but that lively, vibrant part of me faded a long time ago.
Five years ago to this very date, I finished my seven years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For five pain-stricken years, I have lived with the knowledge that the only one who I will ever love has gone. Or might as well have. He is with someone else now. Someone I thought was my friend, obviously not. But that person doesn't matter. I just wish I had told him I loved him when I had the chance. It's too late for that now though. It's too late for anything.
I have walked the streets of London, alone, cold, ashamed, aimlessly for these five years. For five years I haven't experienced one single time that I could call 'happy'. But what is happiness? How do you define it? Is it when you have a successful career and a family? Or when you have achieved the greatest dream?
None of this matters though. Not anymore. No longer to me anyway.
So I stand on the edge of the balcony from the highest building in London. The air seems to cold up here and hurts my lungs everytime I inhale. Inhale I need not do any longer. I take my final living breath of cold air and let myself fall.
I'm falling free now. My regrets and shame and anger and hatred will probably not allow me to go to heaven. If heaven exists that is.
I will fall into hell. But even hell is better than the life of non-existance that I have been leading. Forgive me, I wish I had told you the way I felt.
The city seems so bright. So full of life. So full of action and happiness. But I'm not. I used to be but that lively, vibrant part of me faded a long time ago.
Five years ago to this very date, I finished my seven years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For five pain-stricken years, I have lived with the knowledge that the only one who I will ever love has gone. Or might as well have. He is with someone else now. Someone I thought was my friend, obviously not. But that person doesn't matter. I just wish I had told him I loved him when I had the chance. It's too late for that now though. It's too late for anything.
I have walked the streets of London, alone, cold, ashamed, aimlessly for these five years. For five years I haven't experienced one single time that I could call 'happy'. But what is happiness? How do you define it? Is it when you have a successful career and a family? Or when you have achieved the greatest dream?
None of this matters though. Not anymore. No longer to me anyway.
So I stand on the edge of the balcony from the highest building in London. The air seems to cold up here and hurts my lungs everytime I inhale. Inhale I need not do any longer. I take my final living breath of cold air and let myself fall.
I'm falling free now. My regrets and shame and anger and hatred will probably not allow me to go to heaven. If heaven exists that is.
I will fall into hell. But even hell is better than the life of non-existance that I have been leading. Forgive me, I wish I had told you the way I felt.