I don't own it
****
Dear World,
That's how Lavender began her letter and so I shall begin mine. Our teachers suggested we write about how we feel. Most people shrugged it off but we're all doing it. Hell, I am. I need to get this off my chest before I explode. They want me to write how I feel. How do I feel? How am I supposed to feel?
I feel like I've been cheated. Like nothing I've ever done was worth anything more than some dime-store novel that nobody wants to read. Lie it's not real. Like a fairy tale I used to hear my mom slur to me at night. No, fairy tales aren't real. Life is.
It's so real at times that I wake up at the crack of dawn just so I can feel the pain behind my eyes. Pain that's physical. A pain that I can control by shutting my eyes and making it all go away. Behind closed eyes I never have to see the dark blue curtains of my bed as they close in on me reminding me what I am and where I'm from. I can drift away from it and back into my dreams. Dreams which, for a moment, are real enough for me.
I see every one walking around here like it is the end of the world just because some Gryffindor offed herself. But I see it the way it really is. She wrote that letter for pity. Maybe even hoping some one would find it before she did anything about it and stop her. But no one did. Lavender Brown had it all but went down in a blaze of her own glory.
Now what? What about the rest of us? And rest assured, there are more of us. Brown had it easy when pitted against some of us. She not the only one who had it bad. Hell, I would have liked to be her. It's easier than what I live with.
No guns going off in the middle of the night. Not knowing until morning if you knew the victim or worse, the shooter. Waking up to find your mother passed out on the couch with a bottle of booze in one limp hand and the remains of her pot smoking on the table next to you with the bag still open and the only bible in the house missing the book of Jude. Lavender didn't have to go to her aunt's house only to find her twelve year old cousin pregnant with her sister. My sister... Damn.
But you don't see me asking for pity. I'm not putting on a face for every one to pretend they know me. I don't care. I have everything I need. Hogwarts to escape my mother's house and studying to escape thinking about it. And when I've studied enough, I dance.
Only in dance can I lose myself so compleatly that I am no longer Lisa Turpin but I become some one else entirely. I become the Dancer. My feet become part of the floor and then the sky as I leap above it all. I become lost compleatly in the movement and music. Lavender never had that and maybe she should have. She had nothing but a lie. If you spend all of your time really thinking about what's going on in your life then eventually you will be consumed by it. I don't hide it because I'm that has made me who I am. Don't pity me too because in twenty years I'll be dancing for the London Ballet and I'll be so far away from all of this that it won't be able to hurt me any more. I will live the music.
So while every one may mourn her, I hate her. I hate that she thinks she had it so bad. I hate the way she was so fake about it. I hate that she took the easy way out while the rest of us fight it out every damned day. Once again those damn Gryffindors come out of their common room and do anything to grab the spotlight. I think Lavender was wrong for that house. She should have been a Ravenclaw. Maybe then she'd still be alive.
I hate Lavender. For being brave enough to die and selfish enough to do it alone. Good riddance to lavender Brown. If she was so weak then she didn't deserve to live anyway. I hate her.
Signed, Lisa Turpin
**** Please review
Dear World,
That's how Lavender began her letter and so I shall begin mine. Our teachers suggested we write about how we feel. Most people shrugged it off but we're all doing it. Hell, I am. I need to get this off my chest before I explode. They want me to write how I feel. How do I feel? How am I supposed to feel?
I feel like I've been cheated. Like nothing I've ever done was worth anything more than some dime-store novel that nobody wants to read. Lie it's not real. Like a fairy tale I used to hear my mom slur to me at night. No, fairy tales aren't real. Life is.
It's so real at times that I wake up at the crack of dawn just so I can feel the pain behind my eyes. Pain that's physical. A pain that I can control by shutting my eyes and making it all go away. Behind closed eyes I never have to see the dark blue curtains of my bed as they close in on me reminding me what I am and where I'm from. I can drift away from it and back into my dreams. Dreams which, for a moment, are real enough for me.
I see every one walking around here like it is the end of the world just because some Gryffindor offed herself. But I see it the way it really is. She wrote that letter for pity. Maybe even hoping some one would find it before she did anything about it and stop her. But no one did. Lavender Brown had it all but went down in a blaze of her own glory.
Now what? What about the rest of us? And rest assured, there are more of us. Brown had it easy when pitted against some of us. She not the only one who had it bad. Hell, I would have liked to be her. It's easier than what I live with.
No guns going off in the middle of the night. Not knowing until morning if you knew the victim or worse, the shooter. Waking up to find your mother passed out on the couch with a bottle of booze in one limp hand and the remains of her pot smoking on the table next to you with the bag still open and the only bible in the house missing the book of Jude. Lavender didn't have to go to her aunt's house only to find her twelve year old cousin pregnant with her sister. My sister... Damn.
But you don't see me asking for pity. I'm not putting on a face for every one to pretend they know me. I don't care. I have everything I need. Hogwarts to escape my mother's house and studying to escape thinking about it. And when I've studied enough, I dance.
Only in dance can I lose myself so compleatly that I am no longer Lisa Turpin but I become some one else entirely. I become the Dancer. My feet become part of the floor and then the sky as I leap above it all. I become lost compleatly in the movement and music. Lavender never had that and maybe she should have. She had nothing but a lie. If you spend all of your time really thinking about what's going on in your life then eventually you will be consumed by it. I don't hide it because I'm that has made me who I am. Don't pity me too because in twenty years I'll be dancing for the London Ballet and I'll be so far away from all of this that it won't be able to hurt me any more. I will live the music.
So while every one may mourn her, I hate her. I hate that she thinks she had it so bad. I hate the way she was so fake about it. I hate that she took the easy way out while the rest of us fight it out every damned day. Once again those damn Gryffindors come out of their common room and do anything to grab the spotlight. I think Lavender was wrong for that house. She should have been a Ravenclaw. Maybe then she'd still be alive.
I hate Lavender. For being brave enough to die and selfish enough to do it alone. Good riddance to lavender Brown. If she was so weak then she didn't deserve to live anyway. I hate her.
Signed, Lisa Turpin
**** Please review