DEAREST, pansy parkinson

iii. remaining silence

Dearest Pansy,

I walk the tightrope of rightdoings and wrongdoings, constantly switching in between sides. 

It's bad, I'm aware, but there's is really nothing I can do about it. It's what makes me, me. It's my person, my entire being. My life.

And my words interest you.

Everyone seems to think that. They say I speak properly and sound 'mature'. Bullshit. I say I'm fluent in the language of poetry, and only that. 

Words simply slide off my lips, leaving a positive effect on the people who listen or read, though that's not what they're intended to do.

They are intended to tell a story, a tragic one, but sometimes people endure so much excruciating pain that they cannot comprehend the idea of a fictional character telling a story that ends with a living being removed from existence.

Now for tragedy, I won't take your pity or your sympathy. There's another side of me that no one has yet seen, and as much as I want to keep it that way, my gut is telling me it'll come out in one of these letters. 

Something that cannot happen, not ever, for the safety of both you and I.

When shooting stars fall, are they even stars anymore? 

It's a common, and simple answer really. The 'stars' we see aren't really stars to begin with, but meteors. Small pieces of rock and dust, that burn itself up in the atmosphere when hitting earth. 

Meteors and I have lots in common. 

Both masked behind something that is meant to make us better. If most people knew that the shooting stars they wished upon were actually just pieces of space rocks, they would be less interested, would they not? 

I wear the shadows, thinking it'd be better. I go unnoticed, thinking it'd be better. Maybe if people were to read my mind, they wouldn't judge so much because in reality

Silence hides my darkest secrets and my deepest desires.

For that I reward silence with the art of despair.

But even under the secrets it can't keep, silence remains.

The war is upon us, Pansy, and the wizarding world never ceases to amaze me. The ministry tries to cover it up but it doesn't work. We know, too many have died for us not to know.

He's coming, and more trouble is on it's way, as if there isn't enough brewing inside the walls of Hogwarts at this very moment.

Flowers will sadly wilt, big blue skies will turn a deep shade of grey, and all hope will be lost. 

I'll listen intently to the echoes of the wind, and wear a thousand faces to hide my own. But someday I'll finally reveal my true one. And hopefully, that is, to you.

Because you are like me in a way, you hide as well. 

You don't truly want to be the bitch everyone perceives you to be, do you? You want to be your true self but you cannot because you don't want to disappoint everyone. 

I, myself, am not afraid of disappointment at all. I am afraid, that if you decide you want to see the true me, and I expose myself to you willingly, just to be loved, I will be vulnerable. Vulnerable in a way where people can tear my heart to shreds and I won't be able to pick up the pieces and continue to hide.

I will grow, and maybe , just maybe, this fear will obliterate itself over time and I'll finally be brave enough to take off the masks for good.

But if I'm being completely, utterly honest, it wouldn't any time soon. 

Because no matter how brave I get, or how many fears I overcome, I'll still manage to drown myself in doubt and trepidation. 

It's truly a curse, one that'll haunt me forever. And I have no choice but to be okay with that.

Sincerely, L