This is written for my cousin, who's been my best friend for all our lives. I'm afraid that she's angry with me for some reason that I'm not very sure of, but I swear I didn't mean it, whatever it was. Anyway, sorry! ^^ Hope this will stop you being mad at me a bit. ;)
She kisses everyone goodbye
And waves her middle finger high
They're never gonna mess with her again
The drama queen is seventeen
And sleeping with boys for free
She's got a reputation of being easy
She was so sick of it all.
How many times had she tried to fit in? To be accepted? To be marked as normal?
And each time, they'd laughed and told her to run away, like a good little girl.
She was so sick of it.
Little girl? What little girl? She was sixteen, for fuck's sake! Surely that qualified her to be able to make her own decisions? To do what she wanted to do? She knew what she wanted, dammit! She was not some little innocent to be pushed around, to be made to do whatever the rest of them wanted. Why couldn't they give her a little respect?
But no, they jeered and laughed at her, yelling what a freak she was. With her old, worn down clothes, her messy, tangled bush of hair, her large spectacles handed down to her from her older brother which didn't even fit… how could they not call her a freak?
So she tried her best to be accepted, perhaps even admired. She saved up her measly pocket money and bought material to make finer, more flattering robes, she bought a special shampoo and charmed her hair every morning to lie down flat and glossy, and she bought Muggle contacts, which her father was only to happy to get for her from one of his scrounges during his job. She even started to put on make-up.
But none of it worked. So okay, people were a bit friendlier, but they still did not invite her to join their circles.
So she started trying to be more outgoing. She laughed loudly, she tried her best to gossip with the other girls, she flirted with the guys.
But it still didn't work. The only thing that happened was that guys seemed to get more interested in her boobs.
So she gave up. She flung herself around, shoved her way about, and she didn't care what people thought, as long as they talked to her. She slept with countless guys, and soon, she was having a different guy in her bed every night. At least it was better than the lonely, cold existence she had had before. Sometimes, during the act, she could almost believe she was loved. That was why she did it. For the warm fuzzy feeling she got when a guy touched her oh so tenderly.
Everytime they put her down
She makes a fist and the tears roll down
She packs her bags and plans to run away
It didn't help her image much, anyway. Now, people called her a slut, a whore, an easy lay. But after long years of insults thrown her way, she'd built a strong wall around her; protected her from anything hurtful. She'd learnt to ignore it all, and bear it cheerfully.
She must be strong. Always.
Or at least outwardly, she never seemed to care at all. But inside, inside! she was crumbling with every word, every sneer, every cruel laugh sent her way. She shrank into herself more and more, confiding in no one (who was there to confide in, after all?), burying all her anger and hurt deep down, quashing all her fears and emotions. She stood tall and held her head high, even though every time she walked past girls who giggled and pointed at her, her heart sank down even further, until it seemed impossible that it could fall any lower.
She must be strong.
At night was when the tears came. She would huddle on her bed, rocking gently, sobbing into her pillow which she clutched against her to muffle any sounds that might wake the others in her dorm. She'd scream, and cry, and bemoan her fate, swearing to run away, run away from the agony of life. Until her rage grew too much for her and she'd hurl the pillow away, and grab the blade she always kept clean and shiny by her bedside.
Then, with tears in her eyes, she'd draw patterns on her wrists, her arms, her legs… anywhere. The scarlet waterfall that came flowing out was always so beautiful that she'd gradually stop crying, and soon, concentrated only on the intricate artwork she was creating. It filled her with wonder that she, the freak that everyone hated, could create something so beautiful that it was almost unearthly, something she was sure no one else could do. Oh, it stung, of course, but what was beauty without pain? It was worth it.
She thinks about herself and cares about nobody else
Because the only friends she has all put her down
They hate her when she's beautiful and even more when she's a fool
They talk behind her back when it's her birthday
Slowly, she stopped talking to people. She attended her classes and stared into space, never listening to the teachers. The teachers did not pay much attention; she'd always been a strange child, just an average student. She stopped trying to push her way into other people's conversations; she didn't care anymore. Nothing mattered any longer. She became self-absorbed, no longer caring about any one else. Nobody bothered her, they just sneered and whispered about how they'd always known she was such a selfish weirdo.
She ate little, and she lost weight. Her skin became so pale it was almost translucent, and there were dark shadows under her eyes. Her hair hung limp and dull down her back; it grew wild and untamed, but she didn't pay any attention; instead, she walked around as if in a dream.
Strangely, this only served to make her seem more beautiful. It gave her a frail, delicate look, and her unhealthy pallor was like a surreal glow, a pale, softly pulsating halo. All the males kept staring at her, fascinated by this almost unearthly being, but she shoved them away, uninterested. Girls grew jealous and guys got frustrated, and she was no better liked than before.
Soon, people just left her alone. They continued to gossip behind her back, saying she was a vampire; she was a Veela; she was a werewolf; a ghost… it just went on and on. And all this while she floated about in her imaginary world, ignoring her schoolmates.
And everytime she makes a friend
The vicious cycle starts again
She's never ever, ever looking back
Sometimes, somebody would sidle up, and talk to her kindly. She fell for it the first few times; she hungered for company and understanding. She would confide and cry on the person's shoulder, but all that person would do the next day was take the information she got and spread it around the school, laughing and gossiping cruelly. After a while, she trusted no one, and grew even colder than before.
At night, as she did every night, she'd cry and cry and cry, her heart breaking over and over again, only to be broken again, till it was shattered into tiny pieces. And she'd lose herself in beauty and vermilion and pain, until she fell asleep, tears staining her cheeks, and blood staining her hands.
She had had enough.
She's saying goodbye and leaving tonight
She's wasted all her lonely tear drops
She's saying goodbye and leaving tonight
She's used up all her lonely tear drops now
She made her way to the Astronomy Tower silently, Harry's Invisibility Cloak draped around her securely. Her footsteps made no sound at all; she'd learnt the art years ago when she'd tried not to be noticed, because to be noticed only meant one thing: pain and hurt.
She stood at the balcony, staring out at the velvety blue-black night sky. The stars twinkled at her; it's all right.
You think? She wondered, looking up at them.
It's up to you. Follow where your heart tells you to go.
But – she cried desperately. I'm so muddled, I don't know what I feel anymore! I closed my heart up years ago, I didn't want anyone in to touch it; hurt it –
But it hurt anyway, didn't it, the stars told her gently. She stared up at them without saying a word.
Follow where you heart leads. That is the only way you will ever find peace.
Stars? Are you sure? She waited. Stars? Stars? But the stars were silent. They continued twinkling at her without a sound.
Not you too! She screamed in frustration. Everybody has left me now – She broke down sobbing. The Moon shone it's still, white light down on her, cooling her heart, hardening it to resolve. She stood up now, determined.
Thank you, Moon. She whispered. It smiled gently down at her. She looked up at the sky, thinking. How beautiful darkness is. Why had she never noticed before? It was so black, swallowing up everything; nothing. But it was always there, reliable, constant. She knew she could depend on the dark.
It welcomed her as she flew towards it; drew her, enticed her. I wasn't wrong after all, she whispered fiercely to herself. The others didn't know anything. I was right; they were wrong.
A last thought flitted across her mind the second before she hit. How angry Ron will be when he sees how I messed up Harry's cloak.
The stars twinkled down.
She's saying goodbye and leaving tonight
She's wasted all her lonely tear drops
She's saying goodbye and leaving tonight
She's used up all her lonely tear drops now
She's wasted all her lonely tear drops now