| 009 |
[November 05 2009 / 06:48pm] |
PRIVATE TO SELF
I can sense that there is something peculiar forming inside of Melinda's head that was not there before. It may have been there before, yes, but it is certainly getting worse. She looks at me strangely. She talks to me strangely. She touches me strangely. She insists on kissing me strangely. She returns to my house after having not seen me for so many days and acts as though we have been separated for years and not mere days. It's a bit clingy, it's a bit much, but it always has a way of calming itself down again. The initial few moments of our embracing are cluttered with whatever emotions Melinda has unwisely allowed herself to feel, but we do always let ourselves settle into a more relaxed place with no expectations, and then we can go on pretending to be comforted by the silence and the simple "pleasures" of just being together. What does that say about me, though? It says that I am still alive, at least. Charis Burke will not, at least, continue to keep getting rounder -- though she may have found a solution to that problem before her death, as I had not seen her up close for quite some time before it happened. This is what happens when you let yourself get involved. If you don't get involved, you don't end up six feet under rotting away (usually). I certainly would not have let myself go that way. Everyone can keep getting themselves killed, as long as I remain unscathed by this whole "revenge of the angry Death Eaters". It's pitiful. Britain is pitiful. "Woe is me" gets old so very, very fast.
I need to stop trying to organize my thoughts on Melinda.
|
|
|
| 008 |
[October 24 2009 / 10:10am] |
WARDED TO MELINDA BOBBIN
I heard what happened. Strangely enough, my mother decided it was important enough to mention to me. I think her latest boyfriend has a bit of a thing for families who own apothecaries, or perhaps she is wondering why she was not involved in this latest adventure -- she gets bored quickly, of course. She's still mildly displeased that we didn't invite her along on our little vacation. Her thoughts on you as a person remain neutral, it seems. Anyway, I was just wondering what your thoughts on the matter are and how you're feeling. How bad was it, exactly? Worse than last time? I suppose it's bad every time. The condensed explanation will suffice. There is a terrible ache in the back of my head.
|
|
|
| 007 |
[October 05 2009 / 10:56am] |
PRIVATE TO SELF
Pity.
|
|
|
| 006 |
[August 24 2009 / 11:21pm] |
I did not know that seaweed had quite so many uses. I hardly paid attention to the Herbology lessons we were forced to engage in, but who did, really? Besides Longbottom, of course. In case you didn't know, seaweed is extremely good for the skin or at least perfect dark skin like my own, especially when it is feeling particularly dry. Perhaps you can remember this, Pansy? Not that you suffer from anything other than a big mouth and an abnormally shaped nose such a thing, but perhaps one day you will. Taking a day off to relax is so very nice, especially because my life is so very perfect difficult at times.
|
|
|
| 005 |
[August 15 2009 / 02:45am] |
PRIVATE TO SELF
I do not believe I have done anything wrong. I do not care what anyone thinks. There is only so much a certain person can say about one topic before I decide I suddenly do not care, especially when it comes to issues such as the Inquisitorial Squad and the end of the war as we know it and "your side lost ha ha". I do not have a side, unless you count oneself as a side; because of this, I do not believe I have lost anything. Or anyone. Why should it even matter if anyone "important" was lost? What makes one loss more important than the others, anyway? So and so died, so and so was a marvelous person, so and so was so sweet, I really miss so and so. That is one way to grovel for sympathy, I suppose. So and so was probably a filthy mudblood lover who read homoerotic novels and resembled a wrinkly pineapple and thought poking fun at my family was oh-so-hilarious.
I do not care about my mother; she can continue to introduce me to her newest boyfriends as often as she wishes to. The latest one looks a bit like troll and gives the most atrocious gifts. Sorry, but I will be burning that emerald-decorated black hat you have me; also, I will not be visiting your family and writing a speech about how much I love spending time with you. We are not going camping. We are not going fishing. Mudbloods go fishing. You are not even going to last long before you vanish. Enjoy life while you can.
I do not care what Draco Malfoy has to whinge about. I do not care who Theodore Nott is or isn't fancying. I do not care about Millicent Bulstrode's community service. I do not care what Ravenclaw is shagging what Hufflepuff. I certainly do not care whether or not Harry Potter has drowned in the bathtub. Though I suppose that would be best. If he had, of course.
I do not care about any of this. Except for that patch of obnoxiously dry skin on my left knee. And that thing on my neck. And my throbbing right hand.
|
|
|
| 004 |
[July 31 2009 / 06:34pm] |
PRIVATE TO CHARIS BURKE
I have not heard much from you and was wondering how your roundness problem? issue is going. Are you having any success? Or are you struggling to rid yourself of that excess weight? If you're still struggling, I am sure we can try to take a new approach to this. All you have to do is ask. That is, of course, only if you haven't found a solution that works.
|
|
|
| 003 |
[July 03 2009 / 03:24am] |
Charis Burke, dear, I ask this only for my your benefit, but -- have you been succumbing to the temptations of food more than you usually do? I sense a bit of roundness when you're near that I have never sensed before. It's a bit alarming, really. You mustn't let yourself get too round. For all our benefits, of course.
|
|
|
| 002 |
[June 30 2009 / 04:12am] |
Question. Feel free to answer as you see fit.
Suppose you really liked something someone else had. It can be anything; jewelery, cutlery, houses in France and yachts on the Atlantic, whatever. How would you go about getting those things for yourself? Hard work? Thievery? Deception? It appears my mother is confused and quite fond of the art of seduction. Whatever. Sorry, but I'd rather not have to drop my trousers bring a fork into my possession. Not that dropping my trousers is necessarily a bad thing. It would be quite the show, at least for me.
But other than that, I am still not fond of this labour I must waste my time with.
|
|
|
| 001 |
[June 13 2009 / 07:13pm] |
[PRIVATE TO SELF]
My mother's latest boyfriend has gone missing in a very similar fashion to events that happened in the past; it was an announcement that threw an annoying feeling of déjà vu at me when I first heard about it. I met him briefly; we spent a few casual moments staring awkwardly at each other on the porch of one of my mother's guest houses. I am unsure of what exactly he was looking for whilst staring at me; flaws? Traces of my mother? For my part, I was only looking at him because he had an extremely large nose and extremely pale skin. Albino, perhaps, or something close to it. But what an atrocious looking man he was; dressed in Italian leathers and shining from head to toe in large, ugly diamonds, of course, but a disgrace to look at nevertheless. I can hardly believe my mother is truly upset about this...disappearance. In fact, she scuttled off into the house with the large and in charge man who came to ask her a few questions about it.
Interesting.
Women aren't smart when it comes to sleeping with anyone who has glittering leathers and bulging diamonds, anyway. Perhaps women aren't smart in general. Especially the ugly ones.
How horrible the thought of being female is.
|
|
|
009 ~END ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif) perdition_rpg~ |
[April 19 2009 / 04:28pm] |
Which one of you has not bathed in days? Someone reeks.
Perhaps it's just the half-bloods? Things get rotten after a while. That sounded less stupid in my head. But everything is perfect in my head, anyway.
|
|
|
| 008 |
[April 07 2009 / 02:30pm] |
[Private to self]
I highly doubt this is an appropriate way to feel, but I must say that I'm glad I wasn't the one chucked down the stairs. Can you image the damage? Blythe's physical appearance is expendable, but mine simply is not. I'd rather it had been a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff (the spotty one - can't do worse), of course, but still. What if Blythe had landed on me? She is hardly a juicy, plump female with over-sized legs and beefy arms, but I don't think I would have been able to catch her. Not that I would have attempted to do so.
Whatever. Someone will end up bleeding. Someone else.
[/Private]
|
|
|
![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}