Post by Sparky Cobalt on Feb 6, 2007 17:06:16 GMT -5
I found a letter that said:
"I'm sorry that you were asleep when I wrote these words down,"
You'd think I'd ought to be used to that by now.
"I'm sorry that you were asleep when I wrote these words down,"
You'd think I'd ought to be used to that by now.
Firefox's proud Quidditch stadium glistened under a dazzling winter sun. The grass was beautiful indeed, out of sight under the few feet of the snow that sparkled everywhere, coating everything in a silencing coat of beautiful white. Outside of the stadium, birds chirped, then died because they were out in the cold. People, bundled up multi-colored mass amounts of clothing, trudged along outside in varying states of happiness and depression. Some threw snowballs while others threw scowls. Some danced around in the snow while others endured the sad thoughts dancing around in their heads. Some laughed and held hands while others simply shuffled along, either alone and loving it or alone and hating it.
Yes, that's right.
It was nearly Valentine's Day.
Save for a few of those late night episodes,
Missed opportunities and 'I don't care's,
There's not a lot that I feel obliged to share or talk about.
Missed opportunities and 'I don't care's,
There's not a lot that I feel obliged to share or talk about.
Inside the stadium, however, there was only one person that could easily be seen, trudging around quietly and sadly. This person was the still [as far as he knew] assistant quidditch captain for the Ravenclaw team. It didn't really matter whether he was or wasn't, of course, because Quidditch seemed to only be played during the summer anyways. Even during summer, it wasn't like any of their practices had done any good. He had failed. The boy sighed and let himself fall face-first onto the snow in front of him. The cold hit him, but not immensely hard because he had already been outside for a while anyways. He breathed in, the cold a distinct flavor in his mouth, or was that just bitterness? Who knew? Who cared?
I'll have my brother stop by this Saturday to pick up my things,
Just make sure you're not there.
This may sound bad, and don't take it the wrong way..
Just make sure you're not there.
This may sound bad, and don't take it the wrong way..
He sighed, the heat of his breath melting the fragile, freezing snow in front of his fed-up face. He was tired. He didn't know why, or what he was tired of, but he was tired. Physically, mentally , emotionally.. He was just tired in general. He was tired of hiding from Teagan after what he'd done in the dungeons. He was tired of replaying that situation over and over again and pointing out eight thousand, seventy hundred and three ways he made a fool of himself constantly. He was tired of thinking. He was tired of having to deal with himself, and he was tired of wanting to just go find Teagan and get all the indecision over with. He was tired of being too afraid to do that, and he was tired of laughing at himself for it. He was tired of feeling like everyone was laughing at him, and he was tired of feeling like everyone hated him. He was tired of being who he was, and he was tired of wishing he was someone else.
He was just tired.
I love you, however;
You hold me down.
You hold me down.