Impure
By : epiphanies
I'll sit here and I'll take your bloody garbage. I'll take your muttering and your remarks and your intolerance and your impurities. Don't ask me why, but I will. I'll stand beside you, whether you're right or wrong. Whether you're good or bad. Whether you're strong or weak. Or when you act strong, but you're really weak. And to make yourself feel better, you belittle me. I'll stand right there and not say a word. Because it's what happens. It's always been that way, and it'll never change, and even if I try to change it, it won't get better. You'll just get weaker, and act stronger, and say it's my fault, even though you know perfectly plain and indeed it is YOUR fault. And I'll take it and things will not change. You'll still have your lurid affairs with all of your "conquests" and speak to me like dirt and say I should feel "privileged" to not just be another conquest, to be your friend. I should feel lucky to never know your touch. And to think, you give a damn about me. Ha! Please. You say you notice, you say you care, but you're all wrapped up in your own damn self. There's nobody but you. You've been trained to be that way. So have I. To think I could talk to you. To think, I was going to tell you my secret. I doubt that you even suspect! You probably don't even notice. If you do, it's obvious that you don't care, however much you say you do. Hell, maybe you want to care. But you can't. It wouldn't be you if you did. If you said, "Do you want an apple?" and I said "No," you'd shrug and eat it yourself. If you asked "Draco, do you want a blood lolly?" and I said "No, thanks," you wouldn't say "But it's our favourite!" You would say "Ok." If you said "Draco, do you ever eat?" I would sigh and say, truthfully, "No, Pansy." You wouldn't even blink. You'd say "Ok," and that would be the end. You wouldn't even - oh, why even bother. You'll never change, you'll never stop being you. And neither will I. I'll never stand up, I'll never yell, I'll never scream, I'll never fight. I'll take your bloody garbage. Just don't ask me why.
I'll sit here and I'll take your bloody garbage. I'll take your muttering and your remarks and your intolerance and your impurities. Don't ask me why, but I will. I'll stand beside you, whether you're right or wrong. Whether you're good or bad. Whether you're strong or weak. Or when you act strong, but you're really weak. And to make yourself feel better, you belittle me. I'll stand right there and not say a word. Because it's what happens. It's always been that way, and it'll never change, and even if I try to change it, it won't get better. You'll just get weaker, and act stronger, and say it's my fault, even though you know perfectly plain and indeed it is YOUR fault. And I'll take it and things will not change. You'll still have your lurid affairs with all of your "conquests" and speak to me like dirt and say I should feel "privileged" to not just be another conquest, to be your friend. I should feel lucky to never know your touch. And to think, you give a damn about me. Ha! Please. You say you notice, you say you care, but you're all wrapped up in your own damn self. There's nobody but you. You've been trained to be that way. So have I. To think I could talk to you. To think, I was going to tell you my secret. I doubt that you even suspect! You probably don't even notice. If you do, it's obvious that you don't care, however much you say you do. Hell, maybe you want to care. But you can't. It wouldn't be you if you did. If you said, "Do you want an apple?" and I said "No," you'd shrug and eat it yourself. If you asked "Draco, do you want a blood lolly?" and I said "No, thanks," you wouldn't say "But it's our favourite!" You would say "Ok." If you said "Draco, do you ever eat?" I would sigh and say, truthfully, "No, Pansy." You wouldn't even blink. You'd say "Ok," and that would be the end. You wouldn't even - oh, why even bother. You'll never change, you'll never stop being you. And neither will I. I'll never stand up, I'll never yell, I'll never scream, I'll never fight. I'll take your bloody garbage. Just don't ask me why.