"Why don't you just leave me alone?" I spit at him, the anger laced in my voice angered him and I loved it. I watched as he clenched his jaw, staring at me as his eyes darkened; walking up to me, soon towering over me making me realize how small I w...
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I woke early this morning, just as I had every other year, and walked slowly to the library to sit down at the one table in the corner, beside the tall window, just as I always had when I would write letters home to my mother.
This table, I thought to myself, held so many memories, all of which have been claimed by either me or her, and yet, only I was here to keep them alive. How unfair it was that it was my job to keep both of us remembered.
I listened to the sound of the heavy rain hitting the window behind me, my body turned away from the open section of the darkened library, and I watched small droplets of rain, almost like tears, run down the glass.
How much I loved days like this. Days where I could go to the library and sit and think by myself, alone in the dark, with no one to try and read my thoughts. I hated when people did that. They were mine, and other than memories, possibly the only thing of mine that I had to myself and myself only, the one other thing that I could say no to sharing with someone else, and they couldn't do anything about it.
I wished I could stay here, in this one spot, all day.
But I knew I couldn't.
Today, just like every other day, I was going to pretend like I was fine. Because I had to be; there was no room for me to pour all of my sadness out.
Today was a hard day for everyone, with it being the first day back to classes after Pansy and the attack. Today wasn't necessarily easy for everyone, and I needed to remember that.
I was grateful, though, because had anyone been suspicious of me, I could simply tell them that I was acting the way that I was because of all the tension being back in class after everything that had happened.
Today was always painful, no matter what I did or what happened, it was never easy. It never got easier, either.
At first, my Mother's vacantness was taunting me, constantly lurking around me and never leaving me alone. Now, it was all just a ghost of the past, the very thing that I associated the past with--perhaps, the only thing. It wasn't that I chose to ignore everything else that had happened to me before she passed, it was just that her death surpassed everything else, making all of the other things cower to the parts of my mind that I didn't visit anymore.
When she first left, I allowed myself to try and believe that I'd see her again after it was my time to die. That one day we would be reunited and after that we would be together for as long as souls live--which, I also told myself was forever.
But the farther it got, the more I realized how much I was lying to myself. Finally, I was starting to understand that I was never going to see my mother again. The only place that she existed was the past.
