I'll try hard not to pretend
I just bumped in to Angeline in the fifth floor girls bathroom, and she gave me some of those muggle 'love heart' sweet thingies. You know the ones. They have little messages written on them, like 'Be Mine' and that sort of bollocks. Apparently she swapped them with some girl in her dorm for a bag of cockroach clusters (hahahah poor girl) and thought I might like some. After checking them over for basic hexes and so fourth, I thanked her, took them, and left.
They're not bad.
Kiss me.
...
How nice. I had to find out Draco had been sent home from Lavender sodding Brown. Am I supposed to just stop caring, or something? Am I supposed to be cut out of the loop entirely?
Ha. Hahaha. hm.
...
I have a puppy.
It's curled up in it's little...box thing...currently. It's really been very well behaved so far, except for that brief incident where it was about to piss on my bed, so I picked it up, dashed next door and dropped it on Potter's.
Childish? Yes. Amusing? Unendingly so.
It still doesn't have a name, so if anyone has any suggestions please speak now. Free issue of Playwizard to the person who puts forward the suggestion I like best. Why aren't I thinking of a name myself? Oh you know - i'm unoriginal and blonde. And apparently, a psychotic whore.
Yes, 'my' issue of Playwizard is out now. According to Kit our beloved Head Boy, 52 copies have already been confiscated so I can only assume most of you will have already seen it. I'm really quite happy with how the shots came out, especially this one:
Naturally most of them are noticeably more devoid of clothing than that one. Ha ha.
Hm. I should really be doing a Defence Against the Dark Arts essay currently, for Professor Snape (thank Merlin Lupin and that annoying woman with the constantly changing hair colour reproduced. Class is noticeably less crap with them around. For me, anyway. Ha!) but Sneevely came bustling in to our classroom this afternoon and informed us that we [The Tree of Knowledge Students] needn't do it due to the fact that we'd be 'beginning an exciting and challenging new extension project later in the week' (Oh. Goody.). Snape looked like he was about to throttle Sneevely with his own neck-tie, but I assume even Snape hasn't the authority to overturn The Board of Education and the Ministry of Magic.
Oh well. Can't complain, I suppose.
There really is very little else to say.
I am a despicable human being.
I deserve whatever is coming to me. I know I do. If I do die, it will be some sort of karmic retribution for being so incredibly selfish my entire life and not caring about a single person except for myself...
Only that isn't true. I do care. That's the problem. I care, when I shouldn't. At least I think I do - or maybe it's just a weird self-serving sort of caring - I care because I want to be looked after?
I don't know. I just don't know. But I know i'm miserable. There's nothing I can do to fight this, I just have to go with the flow. Draco listened. Draco understood.
Sky still thinks this is some sort of game. Still. He saw how I was and he basically accused me of over-reacting and being a selfish bitch. Well he's half right, i'll give him that. I flipped out. I don't know what was wrong with me but suddenly it seemed like I was totally alone and totally trapped - stuck on a one-way collision course with death with nothing I could do about it. I felt so sick and ugly and worthless and tired and finished.
Anytime I came close to telling - even when I was speaking to Draco, in the vaugest terms about it (and he obviously at least partially knows what's going down) my stomach started to churn and it felt like my head was about to be split open with a hammer and a chisel. That sort of vauge throbbing ghost of pain that precedes real fucking head trauma.
I wonder if that's what it would feel like, if you told anyone.
A chisel through your head, hammering and hammering until it hit some vital part of your brain. And invisible drill boring in to every part of your body until inwardly you were this bloody, pulpy mess but outwardly...
You were still you.
Only dead-er.
I hate thinking about what they are going to make us do. I hate thinking about Lavender Brown in her tent getting closer and closer to some kind of truth. I don't know which I hate more - the thought that she'll get it right, and fuck it up for us, or that she'll get it right, and fuck herself up. I don't even like her, but I wouldn't wish this on anybody.
I hate thinking about people like Kit getting caught in the crossfire. I hate thinking about Skylar when he finally realises what the fuck is going on. I hate thinking about Draco stuck at home wasting away like that...
Ugh.
UGH!
I hate pretending to be okay.
Hold me.
They're not bad.
Kiss me.
...
How nice. I had to find out Draco had been sent home from Lavender sodding Brown. Am I supposed to just stop caring, or something? Am I supposed to be cut out of the loop entirely?
Ha. Hahaha. hm.
...
I have a puppy.
It's curled up in it's little...box thing...currently. It's really been very well behaved so far, except for that brief incident where it was about to piss on my bed, so I picked it up, dashed next door and dropped it on Potter's.
Childish? Yes. Amusing? Unendingly so.
It still doesn't have a name, so if anyone has any suggestions please speak now. Free issue of Playwizard to the person who puts forward the suggestion I like best. Why aren't I thinking of a name myself? Oh you know - i'm unoriginal and blonde. And apparently, a psychotic whore.
Yes, 'my' issue of Playwizard is out now. According to Kit our beloved Head Boy, 52 copies have already been confiscated so I can only assume most of you will have already seen it. I'm really quite happy with how the shots came out, especially this one:
Naturally most of them are noticeably more devoid of clothing than that one. Ha ha.
Hm. I should really be doing a Defence Against the Dark Arts essay currently, for Professor Snape (thank Merlin Lupin and that annoying woman with the constantly changing hair colour reproduced. Class is noticeably less crap with them around. For me, anyway. Ha!) but Sneevely came bustling in to our classroom this afternoon and informed us that we [The Tree of Knowledge Students] needn't do it due to the fact that we'd be 'beginning an exciting and challenging new extension project later in the week' (Oh. Goody.). Snape looked like he was about to throttle Sneevely with his own neck-tie, but I assume even Snape hasn't the authority to overturn The Board of Education and the Ministry of Magic.
Oh well. Can't complain, I suppose.
There really is very little else to say.
I am a despicable human being.
I deserve whatever is coming to me. I know I do. If I do die, it will be some sort of karmic retribution for being so incredibly selfish my entire life and not caring about a single person except for myself...
Only that isn't true. I do care. That's the problem. I care, when I shouldn't. At least I think I do - or maybe it's just a weird self-serving sort of caring - I care because I want to be looked after?
I don't know. I just don't know. But I know i'm miserable. There's nothing I can do to fight this, I just have to go with the flow. Draco listened. Draco understood.
Sky still thinks this is some sort of game. Still. He saw how I was and he basically accused me of over-reacting and being a selfish bitch. Well he's half right, i'll give him that. I flipped out. I don't know what was wrong with me but suddenly it seemed like I was totally alone and totally trapped - stuck on a one-way collision course with death with nothing I could do about it. I felt so sick and ugly and worthless and tired and finished.
Anytime I came close to telling - even when I was speaking to Draco, in the vaugest terms about it (and he obviously at least partially knows what's going down) my stomach started to churn and it felt like my head was about to be split open with a hammer and a chisel. That sort of vauge throbbing ghost of pain that precedes real fucking head trauma.
I wonder if that's what it would feel like, if you told anyone.
A chisel through your head, hammering and hammering until it hit some vital part of your brain. And invisible drill boring in to every part of your body until inwardly you were this bloody, pulpy mess but outwardly...
You were still you.
Only dead-er.
I hate thinking about what they are going to make us do. I hate thinking about Lavender Brown in her tent getting closer and closer to some kind of truth. I don't know which I hate more - the thought that she'll get it right, and fuck it up for us, or that she'll get it right, and fuck herself up. I don't even like her, but I wouldn't wish this on anybody.
I hate thinking about people like Kit getting caught in the crossfire. I hate thinking about Skylar when he finally realises what the fuck is going on. I hate thinking about Draco stuck at home wasting away like that...
Ugh.
UGH!
I hate pretending to be okay.
Hold me.