Hullo Gentle Readers!

Looking back, I probably shouldn't have indulged myself in so many oneshots, but seeing as how my life is entirely lacking any sort of romance or optimisic emotion whatsoever, you get angsty oneshots instead. I got one or two funny ones which I'll post soon enough, but for now, here's the angst.

Now, as for this one, I dunno if anyone other than me will understand what its about. In short, its about suicide. Harry's suicide to be exact. Wooo, I'm putting him through the ringer lately, huh :pets Harry: I'd also like to note that this ficlet was inspired by a scene in "Double Dare" Silvia Kundera. Funny how her happy story spurred this depressing one in me x.x

And certain things had been planned, and certain consequences had been weighed, and certain things were worth it, as certain things always were, asI would not stop short atmy means in the face of an ends.

And certain things, they hadn't been expected to feel this horribly.

But they did.

And certain things were simply inevitable, which was what this was all about, wasn't it? Inevitability.

Inevitable that I saw this coming but chose not to act on it. Inevitable that I lied, time and time again, but never confessed properly. Inevitable that as soon as my heart began to wrap tightly around the thought that perhaps I wouldn't die alone, I found out I would. And inevitable that even after all this time, after all the tears, all the torture, all the pools of bright slick crimson staining my robes in punishment, I still blame myself.

It's inevitable that I would never forgive myself.

Perhaps that's what I was after all along. A perfect and unfalible reason to hate myself. A justified excuse to torture my body and my mind, since I had killed my soul long ago. A beautifultwist to this sordid little tale. Because I look in the mirror and I want to scream at what I see.

The eyes that once shone with love and mirth, have dulled and sunk. The skin that glinted in the warm summer sun and left such trails of happiness down a smooth jaw, has paled and scarred. I can't even stand to wash my hair. What's the use, really? No soap could ever penetrate deeply enough to cleanse my sins.

I'm tainted. And it was inevitable.

So certain things were put into action and certain things were admitted. Certain consequences were weighed, as inevitable as those consequences are. And certain things were denied, forgotten, let go of, removed, as I knew certain things required.

But certain things would never let go, and certain things would always hold tight and blame was an everyday thing and sin was a drinkable substance and the thick red pools would grow larger and darkness tucked me in after it was all said and done. Inevitably.

So I let certain things transpire, as usually happened at this point, and certain things felt good, as certain things usually did. Certain things ripped me apart, as if there were much left to rip and certain things were whispered into my ear as the last black, bloodied feather fell.

And I stare into the aftermath, the Armagedeon, the Revelations, the Apocolypse, Hell, and I knew certain things were considered and certain things were inevitable and certain things could've been changed and certain things might've been saved, as certain things always could, but consequences and sin and blame and pain and tears and blood and darkness and despair and the sharp end of a knife weighed far too heavy a burden on this one pitiful soul. More than human, less than an angel. Always a warrior.

Certain things were cherished and certain things will be missed. Certain things are regretted and certain things leave a gaping hollow in what was supposed to be a rich and successful destiny.

And I stand on the tip of a precipice, looking down into my bleak and final future, and wonder maybe I hadn't taken certain things into account, maybe I hadn't lost all hope and maybe I still loved,this tinypart way deep down inside beneath the ugly wounds and horrific stains. Maybe I still lovedthe littleshard of me that wasn't covered in blood and agony and deep, darkening distain. Maybe that part of me could bloom, blossom, grow, swell and flood light onto the rest of me. Maybe I could see myself for the hideous brute that I am and wrap my arms round it, hold it tight and whisper "it'll be ok." Maybe I could nuture that little bit, that tiny piece of shining goodness, and become the person I was meant to be.

But certain things were put into action and certain consequences were inevitable,ascertain consequences generally are, andcertain things were deniedas certain things were now irreversible.Irrevocable. Impossible.

So certain things enveloped in silence as certain things shifted out of existence, and I fell into the abyss and accepted that certain things had been planned, and certain consequences had been weighed, and certain things were worth it, as certain things always were, asI would not stop short atmy means in the face of this end.

And certain things, they hadn't been expected to shatter so perfectly.

But they did