Private to Self - Private to Terry - July 14, 2000
Pansy wrote me. I think I'm supposed to feel bad. Worse than bad. I probably ought to feel like driving a sharp object deep into my brain. At least I hope that's what I'm supposed to feel because it's exactly what I'm feeling. Actually I think I feel worse. I feel . . . I don't know. Lost perhaps? And maybe a bit angry because sure she had to go through all of that but what about me? It's not like I woke up one morning and thought it'd be nice and fun to plot to kill Dumbledore. It's not like I decided that I'd just love to spend two years of my life being tortured and fucked around with.
Maybe I did though. I mean, I was all for it at first wasn't I? Before Dad got swept off to Azkaban and before everything went to absolute shit I wanted that. I wanted power and glory. I wanted to make my father proud and I suppose I sort of wanted to make Severus and Mum proud too. When I was fourteen I would've pissed my pants for the chance to be sent on a mission given to me by the Dark Lord himself.
I was fucking brain damaged, wasn't I?
Maybe I still am.
Merlin, I want to gut myself! I want to gut myself and I want to yell at Pansy and I want to hold her and never let go. I want to explain things but even I don't understand. She wonders if she's on par with Potter. I think I've been blinded or struck dumb because I somehow forgot that that's not a good thing for someone like Pansy. Fuck, I don't even know if it's true. I fancy him. I love her more than I think I ever thought I could love a girl who wasn't my mum. He's . . . he's Harry Potter. And she's Pansy. I suppose there's supposed to be a difference. Years ago there was. Years ago this was easy. Years ago I hated him and I had Crabbe and Goyle Vince and Greg and Blaise and Pansy always there. But Pansy most of all because she was my best friend. I think she still is but when she wonders if things have changed how can I pretend they haven't?
I spent two fucking years by my fucking self. I had fuck-all to depend on. You get yourself used to that after a while. And then you come back and things feel like they did before for a while and then things start to change because nothing can fucking stay the same, can it? That's just too damn much to ask for.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry and I'm so fucking confused. I don't know who I am or what I am or what I want to do or what I should do. I wish I was dead. Maybe I'm just being dramatic.
I don't know. I don't fucking know one fucking thing.
Have you ever done something you really regret but you can't really figure out how to apologize for it? Or you don't really know if you really regret it because you'd probably do it again if you were given the same choice all over again?
-Dragon