We Are Just People


A wisp of hair fell into her face but she didn't bother to tuck it behind her ear, which she usually did so many times. This time it was different though, it was awkward for her to do anything she normally did under the circumstances.

So she let the strip of red, tousled hair dance in her face as the breeze of the winds breath hugged her to a chill. As far as she could tell she was outside on mustered colored grass facing the fogged lake. Considering how rough her skin felt from the breeze and the rasping noise that rose in her chest she could only assume that she had been out there for a lengthy time.

Her ears buzzed with a rhythm so fast it seemed to compete with her aching heart that was on a quick pace of beating out of her rib cage. Why was her life all of the sudden not worth living? Why did she feel so broken?

Her mind went into a frenzy as to try and answer these simple questions. As simple as they were though, the answers did not come to her.

The buzzing seemed to die down as her eyes glanced over to the lake in front of her, a thick layer of fog tugging at the surface of the green algae water. Shakily she lifted her hand to her face and felt something clammy and wet. Bringing her hand back down and licking the tips of her stubby fingers she tasted the familiarity of salt. She had been crying?

No thoughts of this came to mind but she brought her overly sized black sleeve to her face and cleaned herself up as much as she could still forgetting about that dangling piece of hair.

Intrigued by the water she stared blankly at the rush of the water that crawled toward her and retreated on the shoreline, mesmerized by its restlessness. Noticing how the water drifted away she watched as it carried rocks with each wave. It was apparent to her that rocks couldn't float but they were repeatedly carried away.

The rocks reminded her of a girl she knew. The girl was firmly settled in her life. A girl with a heart that never stopped carrying about others. She was always hypnotized by the magic of the world and its miraculous ways. Then the world came and crushed her, taking her away even when she knew it was for the worst.

Why she tried to cover up that the girl she was thinking of was her she didn't fully understand. Was she ashamed that she was that girl? Or was it that she knew she wasn't that girl anymore? Sighing with annoyance she closed her eyes in frustration, as the wind seemed to hug her with more force.

Relating her life to rocks, she knew she had somehow hit the bottom but she still didn't know as to how she got there... Life just seemed to pile up on her along with all of the pressure. She felt like she was programmed to be perfect with everyone's expectations.

When she would be overwhelmed with this thought she would look at everyone around her. They didn't look like they were suffering… They looked normal, as normal as anyone could be anyway. To here they were the rocks that weren't swept away. Was it just her that felt like she was being tossed in the waves?

So everyone was a porcelain doll and she was the only one that was broken was that it? Even when she repaired herself the wear and tear eventually took hold of her and she was broken once more. Was she just supposed to keep fixing herself?

Her eyes gazed at the book sack that lay next to her. It was handed down from her great Grandmother. Her mom was so happy to pass it down to her, like it was gem. To her it was just a hammy down book bag.

She observed it with little likeness in knowing it wasn't something she was proud to carry around. Sure she was happy to have a book sack but she was unhappy to have another hammy down. In her family there was no room for new things, at least not in her generation. Everything she owned was at least twenty or more years old and usually came with its scent of dust and dirt that they had accumulated over the many years they were used. She could barley smell the leather in the book bag anymore; instead it was a musty odor that gave her nausea.

The disappointment of opening a present and finding out it was pre owned was always the downside to the holidays. But then, you can tell a lot about a person from there stuff. She believed that the way she thought of the bag that sat in front of her was just how she felt about herself.

She was a secondhand rag doll and no one sees the dirty rag doll in the store because there to busy searching for the brand new one. She's a girl who isn't observed and if she was it was only to confirm to see if she was a Weasley, a disgrace. These thoughts were like a tumor inside her that would feed on her life and continue to grow; there was no way to kill them.

Hugging the book sack close to her chest she could see that the stars had started to write themselves in the sky and the sun was fading away. Shadows fell until they engulfed everything and she sat in the dark staring at the fog that slowly danced over the water.

Her eyes began to drift off now and again but she would always bring herself back. She needed a distraction. Thinking of what could help her stay awake she rummaged through the bag and found some spare parchment, a bottle of ink, and a quill. Using the book bag as a table she began writing furiously, now and again looking at the lake for reassurance.

She placed the ink and quill back into the bag with shaky hands like she was holding her life. Reading the note over again she folded it in half and then gently placed it on the bag that now lay beside her.

For a few moments she listened to the waves like listening to a lullaby until she got on her knees and then to her feet. Now the coldness that hadn't affected her that well from sitting down was whipping around her, red piece of hair still moving about her tear stained face.

Shakily she slowly picked at her cloak and dropped it to the darkened grass, the Gryffindor patch shining against the moonlight. Carefully she took off her shoes, the red and gold tie until she was left in her school uniform. Everything was on a standstill for her, it was like a timeless replay every second that air went in and out of her mouth.

Slowly she made her way to the edge of the water with as much strength that was left in her, her body aching so much it took her a deep breathe each time to move.

At the edge of the water she looked at herself in the reflection with the light of the moon to confirm that she had indeed been crying earlier. She also had tattered hair with sap and small twigs and pieces of bark in her hair. She was a mess and it wasn't just on the outside.

Comfortably numb she turned around and glanced at the barley visible book bag with the small crème piece of parchment that looked like a candle in the dark. Turning back around she took a small step into the water until she was wading in it up to her waist. The bitterness burned at her skin and set it afire as a small smile fitted her lips. For some reason she didn't feel scared, maybe it was the moonlight, or maybe it was something that even she couldn't understand. She gently pushed that small piece of red hair back behind her ear just like old times, only for the last time.

She relaxed listening to the shores crash onto the rocks and looked up to see the silver tears shine in the night as she gently floated on her back, being carried away with the floating rocks as she felt herself, Ginny fade away for the last time.

To the person reading this I have already been carried away with the world and won't be coming back. I do not find myself to be selfish because I put a strangers life before mine. I have no regrets and to say that I was unhappy wasn't the only reason why I couldn't bare the world. I couldn't fix myself anymore, worn and torn but as I broke this time I couldn't put back the pieces.

I wondered all my life if people were really human. We contain so much emotion but no one seems to express any of it. I have wondered all my life I was normal. If I was different. I was special. Well I finally found my answer.

We are just people.

There is nothing different about you and me. You shed blood and I shed blood. You breathe and I breathe. So what makes us different? Our choices. Your choice will always be different than mine no matter how similar we look even at the times when you seem fine but on the inside your really dying. I am just a rock in this world, just one that has been taken by the water. My choice is made and I am now different from you.

Find yourself and find out who you really are,

Ginerva Anne Weasley

A/N - Wow its been a long time since I have written anything! It feels good to be back! I was home sick so I thought what the heck I should write something! Personally I've been wanting to get some of that stuff off of my chest cause I have felt like that before...I would love any feedback just not flames please. Also thanks for reading it It is on a pretty depressing note but It has a lot of depth and kind of part of the way I look at things in the world so..ok I'll stop now, lol.