I love you with everything I have and it’s tearing me apart to walk away from you but I have to. You don’t care anymore, you don’t want this anymore and I can’t pretend anymore. I love you but I have to walk away.
<b><p></b> <b><p></b> <b>Ron:</b> What's wrong, mate? You're really out of it today. We're losing to the Slytherins by 180 points!<p/><b>Draco:</b> *zooms toward ron and harry on his broom* What's the matter, Potter? In dire need of Vitamin Me?<p/><b>Ron:</b> <p/><b>Harry:</b> <p/><b>Harry:</b> What?<p/><b>Ron:</b> Don't you mean Vitamin D?<p/><b>Draco:</b> That also can be easily arranged *winks*<p/><b>Harry:</b> *blushes profusely*<p/><b>Ron:</b> *throws broom in the air* *rips hair off his head* *double back flips away from everything*<p/><b>Hermione:</b> You can't blame him. You walked straight into that one.<p/></p><p/></p><p/></p>
…Pulling this struggling little boy So he’d stay just a minute more With you. —Vickie Johnstone, “Mother,” Travelling Light - Poetry
He watches her walk away, her step jaunty, her hair bouncing with every stride. His mind teems with all the words his mouth cannot utter.
“Mama, I had a daughter. Yes, you have a granddaughter. Her name is Iris. And when she smiles…Oh, when she smiles, sometimes I see you in the way her nose wrinkles.”
He wants to curl into a ball in her lap, the way he did when he was a boy. A ball so small that the world won’t see him. Rittenhouse won’t see him.
Does she still smell faintly of cloves, the way he remembers? Her hands—he wants to hold them in his—hold them in blazing sunlight, to check whether they are still stained with ink and pencil as they used to be.
He wants. He wants…
But these are whimsical thoughts, and in Garcia Flynn’s world now, there is no room for whimsy. It’s a cold world. A dark world. A world he cannot share with anyone, least of all his mother.
“Mama, come back,” he cries. “Mama, they took her from me. Took them. Help me, Mama. Help me.”
It is so weird how hating yourself becomes your comfort zone and it’s like telling yourself you suck, you’re trash, you don’t deserve happiness, etc. is so normal and like just another day in your mind but trying to tell yourself “I love you” or “you are smart and capable” is SO fucking foreign it’s almost painful saying it/thinking it. I feel like I can feel my self hatred drowning out the self love and taking it and strangling it. It is when you actually want to compliment yourself and then you feel that sinking feeling like your enemy just entered the room and is going to make your life a living hell except it isn’t another person, it’s yourself.