A/N: This is short, angsty and pointless…just like Draco's life…
Darkness Visible
There are so many questions and no one to answer. No one to ask.
They are the following. There are always questions.
The world. It's not real.
It seems to be a dream.
Is it my dream?
There are barriers, categories, which I have based by thoughts around, subconsciously. That is, the world is separated into two groups. Them and me.
As though I am another species. I don't belong to life- I am something else all together. I don't know myself- there is no self- just a reaction in relation to others. I play a different part, not knowing when to stop; which is me.
I have no parents- Lucius and Narcissa, they are just names to me.
Draco- this doesn't belong to me either.
I see no goal, in the end it is all meaningless.
The more I get to know and understand people around me, the more I dislike them. This can't be normal. What is normal?
There are some things I know; some pieces of knowledge that I have gained in this life. Whether they are of use, for my knowing them, that is disputable.
Everything feels fake; my actions, my thoughts, and my emotions. But to someone, who has nothing else, they become everything. It's painful, but at least I know something's there. It has to be better that nothingness.
Life is a long line
Of emptiness,
Which somehow exists
For me?
To spite me.
For my good?
But the end is
Nothing, just like
The substance.
A/N: The title is from 'Darkness Visible' by William Golding.
Darkness Visible
There are so many questions and no one to answer. No one to ask.
They are the following. There are always questions.
The world. It's not real.
It seems to be a dream.
Is it my dream?
There are barriers, categories, which I have based by thoughts around, subconsciously. That is, the world is separated into two groups. Them and me.
As though I am another species. I don't belong to life- I am something else all together. I don't know myself- there is no self- just a reaction in relation to others. I play a different part, not knowing when to stop; which is me.
I have no parents- Lucius and Narcissa, they are just names to me.
Draco- this doesn't belong to me either.
I see no goal, in the end it is all meaningless.
The more I get to know and understand people around me, the more I dislike them. This can't be normal. What is normal?
There are some things I know; some pieces of knowledge that I have gained in this life. Whether they are of use, for my knowing them, that is disputable.
Everything feels fake; my actions, my thoughts, and my emotions. But to someone, who has nothing else, they become everything. It's painful, but at least I know something's there. It has to be better that nothingness.
Life is a long line
Of emptiness,
Which somehow exists
For me?
To spite me.
For my good?
But the end is
Nothing, just like
The substance.
A/N: The title is from 'Darkness Visible' by William Golding.