Just a Person

[gargoylegeek]

What's to stop me from killing myself?

There will always be more thing to do. There will always be more things to say. Maybe that next novel will never be written. Maybe your favorite TV show will get cancelled, leaving you without the next season or even the next episode. Maybe you'll never say what you need to in the right way.

None of that matters. I've lost my reason for living, my baby, my Jack. He's gone. I don't want to be without him.

[gargoylegeek]

I don't know how to put this so I'm just going to fucking type it all out.

I love you. I have been in love with you since junior year when I destroyed my chances of being a section leader to spend the day with you. To you, I've always been a maybe. Sometimes not even a faint interest. Its hot and cold and never in between. When it's good, it's amazing. When it isn't, there's literally nothing between us. It's been nearly five fucking years of this. I don't deserve this. I deserve to be kissed in public. I deserve to be able to reach for your hand while we're walking around without wondering if you're going to step away or be ashamed to be seen with me. I deserve more than sneaking around behind everyone's backs. I deserve more than two proposals you didn't mean and that no one even knew about.

[gargoylegeek]

I'm going to scream and scream and scream and...

Things I Don't Fucking Share

[gargoylegeek]

You're an idiot. You had me, and you finally fucking lost me.

I wanted to fucking marry you, you fuck.

[thepersonalquotes]

[thepersonalquotes]

[gargoylegeek]

Your first show was today. I miss you so much it hurts me.

[ink-splotch]

What if, when Petunia Dursley found a little boy on her front doorstep, she took him in? Not into the cupboard under the stairs, not into a twisted childhood of tarnished worth and neglect–what if she took him in?

Petunia was jealous, selfish and vicious. We will not pretend she wasn’t. She looked at that boy on her doorstep and thought about her Dudders, barely a month older than this boy. She looked at his eyes and her stomach turned over and over. (Severus Snape saved Harry’s life for his eyes. Let’s have Petunia save it despite them).

Let’s tell a story where Petunia Dursley found a baby boy on her doorstep and hated his eyes–she hated them. She took him in and fed him and changed him and got him his shots, and she hated his eyes up until the day she looked at the boy and saw her nephew, not her sister’s shadow. When Harry was two and Vernon Dursley bought Dudley a toy car and Harry a fast food meal with a toy with parts he could choke on Petunia packed her things and got a divorce.

Harry grew up small and skinny, with knobbly knees and the unruly hair he got from his father. He got cornered behind the dumpsters and in the restrooms, got blood on the jumpers Petunia had found, half-price, at the hand-me-down store. He was still chosen last for sports. But Dudley got blood on his sweaters, too, the ones Petunia had found at the hand-me-down store, half price, because that was all a single mother working two secretary jobs could afford for her two boys, even with Vernon’s grudging child support.

They beat Harry for being small and they laughed at Dudley for being big, and slow, and dumb. Students jeered at him and teachers called Dudley out in class, smirked over his backwards letters.

Harry helped him with his homework, snapped out razored wit in classrooms when bullies decided to make Dudley the butt of anything; Harry cornered Dudley in their tiny cramped kitchen and called him smart, and clever, and ‘better ‘n all those jerks anyway’ on the days Dudley believed it least.

Dudley walked Harry to school and back, to his advanced classes and past the dumpsters, and grinned, big and slow and not dumb at all, at anyone who tried to mess with them.

But was that how Petunia got the news? Her husband complained about owls and staring cats all day long and in the morning Petunia found a little tyke on her doorsep. This was how the wizarding world chose to give the awful news to Lily Potter’s big sister: a letter, tucked in beside a baby boy with her sister’s eyes.

There were no Potters left. Petunia was the one who had to arrange the funeral. She had them both buried in Godric’s Hollow. Lily had chosen her world and Petunia wouldn’t steal her from it, not even in death. The wizarding world had gotten her sister killed; they could stand in that cold little wizard town and mourn by the old stone.

(Petunia would curl up with a big mug of hot tea and a little bit of vodka, when her boys were safely asleep, and toast her sister’s vanished ghost. Her nephew called her ‘Tune’ not 'Tuney,’ and it only broke her heart some days.

Before Harry was even three, she would look at his green eyes tracking a flight of geese or blinking mischieviously back at her and she would not think 'you have your mother’s eyes.’

A wise old man had left a little boy on her doorstep with her sister’s eyes. Petunia raised a young man who had eyes of his very own).

Petunia snapped and burnt the eggs at breakfast. She worked too hard and knew all the neighbors’ worst secrets. Her bedtime stories didn’t quite teach the morals growing boys ought to learn: be suspicious, be wary; someone is probably out to get you. You owe no one your kindness. Knowledge is power and let no one know you have it. If you get can get away with it, then the rule is probably meant for breaking.

Harry grew up loved. Petunia still ran when the letters came. This was her nephew, and this world, this letter, these eyes, had killed her sister. When Hagrid came and knocked down the door of some poor roadside motel, Petunia stood in front of both her boys, shaking. When Hagrid offered Harry a squashed birthday cake with big, kind, clumsy hands, he reminded Harry more than anything of his cousin.

His aunt was still shaking but Harry, eleven years and eight minutes old, decided that any world that had people like his big cousin in it couldn’t be all bad. “I want to go,” Harry told his aunt and he promised to come home.

Keep reading

[swiftispunk-deactivated20241031]

isn’t it weird how it’s already february but it’s also only february

[thenextjenneration83]

I see this post every February and it always fucks me up

[gargoylegeek]

It's so easy to want to die, even when everything is going right.

[differentcomputercoffee]

no fair… you really know how to make me cry when you give me those ocean eyes.

- billie

[lilybouqet]

Your name, forever the name on my lips Just like our last kiss

[secretslivehere]

v u l n e r a b l e

[shmwrites]

“It’s so disappointing giving someone chance after chance, hoping that one day they’ll change. I have no idea how many mornings I’ve woken up and prayed that today would be the day they changed and loved me the way I need to be loved, but I think after so many hopeful mornings ended by so many hopeless nights I need to accept that they’re not going to change and that they don’t deserve my love, no matter how badly I want to give it to them.”

— in the end, i’m only hurting myself.

[words-of-heartbreak]

“Stop telling me he wasn’t right for me. I know that, but it doesn’t make me want him any less, doesn’t make me miss him any less. It doesn’t change the fact of how happy we were together. Reminding me he isn’t right for me just makes me wonder, then who is?

— How could it not be me? ( @words-of-heartbreak )

[pisboy]

i found this card unopened in a drawer in my bedroom

[pisboy]

reblog this in 10 seconds and you will find a mysteriously unopened card with $100 and you will also finally graduate middle school

[fate]