Quote Me if I'm Wrong

Chapter Four: Passionate Hate (an Oxymoron)

Everything happens for a reason. -Shannon Elizabeth, told to People magazine

I hate death, being dead, the smell of death, Snape, my cousin, death, the act of getting dead, my mother, my inheritance, death, graveyards.... I hate a lot of things don't I?

Death is the worst thing though, not because I don't eat, because it is really boring. All I have to do up here is look at the never ending spacelessness of white, the black ceiling, or that infuriating veil.

That veil just hangs there; it swings in this non-existent breeze, which I know is not there because I cannot feel anything up here except an echo of nothingness. Oh good, I'm starting to loose it, I've used an oxymoron. That moth-eaten piece of crap is the most aggravating thing I have ever known. So innocent, so delicate, so boring...and yet because of that disregarded parlor curtain I'm separated from the living, and from the dead.

Being dead just sucks. I have decided the two worst colors in the universe are white and Black. White because it just surrounds me, it is everywhere, on and on in all directions. Once I tried to walk around here and find a way out only to realize that I was still staring at the same ancient Roman arch. Stupid rock, stupid, stupid, stupid. I think I hate the color black for duel reasons, one: it is the color of the sky, and two: it's my last name. Dumb name. I didn't hate my name until my cousin decided to off me. My cousin, same last name, guess last names don't count for much. I suppose I should have known that last names don't count for anything, especially among pureblood families. When you walk out on you good, high and mighty blooded relatives you are nothing above a Granger, or at least that is what you are in their eyes. My mum's portrait said so.

I know one person who didn't have the guts to leave his family, and yet when he finally realized the 'err in his ways', his words, he dumped them on their asses and now he is Dumbdlore's new best friend. It is a little weird, for years we competed, well not competed, James and I just pushed him around. After school we had nothing with each other, until we had to shake hands, he must be having a good laugh now that I'm dead. Lucky him.

Part of me says that I had to die for a reason. My death made everybody wake up and realize that with this war there will be deaths and when you die you don't have a chance at return. I think I died to show that the inevitable will come because it is, in fact, inevitable. Because I died Harry learnt what few knew, he continues to dwell in his head, he plays with his imagination, he has these images where he is strong, and brave. Like his father, he wants to be like his father. For this record, Molly, I never forgot who Harry is; I just remembered who his father was.

Death is like love, oh God, now I'm using analogies. Death leaves you dead, and love leaves you dead. Same end result, I have learnt that love is a waste of time and death is time. I should know, I have loved, and I am dead. Charisma was my first love, and she jumped off the Astronomy Tower because her past was getting to her. She was Lily's best friend, that's how James and I met Lily. James was taken to the red hair and green eyes. Lily just despised him, but we would often meet in the library and sometimes we just leaned on the shelves and talked, on a strictly platonic level.

When James died I was enraged, that rage has bubbled inside of me since the green light first sparked... Everything happens for a reason, if James and Lily hadn't gotten married then their child would not be a half-blood, had he not been a half-blood he would never have been seen as the Dark Lord's equal, had he of not been marked then Neville would be the savior of our Hell. Can you imagine that? Now with the rhetorical questions, I've been dead too long.

Death, that's another thing I really hate...death...I'm dead.... It's gonna take a little longer for me to get used to...but I'm dead for a reason...real comforting thought!