Reflections

[not_invisible]

It's raining outside, harsh gray water slanting down against the glass and turning it darker in streaks. If I look at it at from the right angle I see a watery reflection of myself - the inverse image of everything I am, or perhaps just of everything I wish I was

Comments

[caustic_serpent]

That's why you shouldn't read stories by muggle authors. They are rubbish.

[not_invisible]

The muggles or the stories?

[caustic_serpent]

Both.

What good have either done us?

[not_invisible]

Shakespeare, Mozart, industrialized agriculture (okay ignore that last one). But stories can give us snapshots of life, lessons to learn, history that we may choose to repeat or not.

[caustic_serpent]

And when we are dead, what does it matter?

We are still dead.

[not_invisible]

I don't know. I'm not sure that it even matters now.

Have we ever really lived? I did once, for a while

[caustic_serpent]

No. We haven't.

We are just all walking around waiting for death, waiting for it to end. Nothing matters truly.

[not_invisible]

Lots of things matter. Just not me the individual ones.

One day nearer to dying. I guess you have a point.

[caustic_serpent]

Of course I have a point. I am a Slytherin after all.

And what matters? What sort of things?

[not_invisible]

Slytherins are rather pointy, indeed.

Lots of things. Loyalty, friendship, doing the right thing, standing up. Unfortunately I suck at all of those things. Please don't say it. I already know. I even agree.

[caustic_serpent]

Say what?

You assume I'm going to bash you right away. You shouldn't assume.

And where does "doing the right thing" get you?

[not_invisible]

It was an observation, not a critique.

Habit. I won't do it again.

It usually ends up pear-shaped and with me bleeding in some fashion or other, but that doesn't make the effort unworthy.