August 1, 2010

•      She cried, when Dumbledore died.
       The entire damn theatre was empty, too; the movie had been playing for weeks now, and she was the only one who kept showing up, the sound of her sobbing filling the room.
       If I could go back a year and attend high school again, I might've tried to actually talk to her. Not to say I didn't know her; well, as much as everyone knew her. She was always the one to pull out notebooks that had pages falling out by the end of the first week of school. She didn't seem to use them for school, anyway. God only knows what she wrote, but there was plenty scribbled all over the front of each one. From what papers fell out, we could see doodles and other trailing paragraphs of what we figured probably weren't notes from class; we hadn't been taught the amount of writing that was on all those pages by the end of the first week.
       Some of the lifeguards said they'd seen her on the weekends driving her siblings for swimming lessons in the family van. She always wore the same getup: hair back in a ponytail with some My Chemical Romance or other band t-shirt and the usual jeans. She didn't take lessons, herself. She just watched them from the side until it was time to take them home again.
       Another friend of mine had said he spotted her at Jewel one time. She had been alone, pushing a cart filled with groceries.
       Her dad didn't live with them anymore. Leastwise, not for the past 10 years, as the rumor flies. He just got tired of the extra weight and skipped town when he got the chance. Perhaps she missed him. A question I might've asked had I talked to her.
       But she had the dishes to do when she got home, as well as the yardwork, and usually the youngest had to have her diaper changed if her mom didn't get home quick enough, and then there was always the homework so that she could get to sleep, as well as the clubs she was involved with after school, since her mom said they'd help with colleges eventually
       And that damn Harry Potter movie, before they decided to take it out of theatres; two times a week, or so she hoped usually. Like a fucking duty, she took the time out to cry for Dumbledore.

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  Jeez, that was painful to write. I've had the worst writer's block for the past month. I hope it clears up soon. I've got 3 or 4 different things all started, all seemingly not being written at a reasonably quick pace.

  Now sleep (seeing as it's 5:41 in the morning at the moment)...

  • 6:39 am
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