Yo. I'm feeling depressed. So I wrote a story. It's another of my famous Harry angst ones.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

NOTICE: This is dedicated to not boys... because they cause chaos in my head, and I hate them for it...

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Gone away, never to be seen again. My soul, detached from my body. I feel nothing. For all has gone away with my spirit. Which is lost in the haze of life.

Confused, it cannot find its way around. Weighed down with my every emotion, it cannot move. Happiness, pain, joy, misery. All have gone with it. My soul, lost.

I do not miss the days when I could feel. I remember them well. I remember the tears. I remember the smiles. I remember the helplessness. And I hate it. Watching the people I love die, while I stand idly by, and continue living.

It's no wonder that my soul has gotten lost. And I feel as if I'm as bad as him... watching others suffer for the mere purpose of me living. And the only reason that I'm living is so that I can commit murder.

Ironic. He cannot feel. I choose not to feel. His soul is gone. I allowed mine to get lost. He sacrifices others so he can be happy. I let others die, and feel nothing.

In a lot of ways, I am worse than him. For my soul is lost. Gone to the ripples of the wind. The tides of the ocean. Gone forever more. This is the end.

Ponderings of my lost soul, before I die. And maybe, when I die, my soul will come back, and I will feel once more. But for now, I remain lost, just like my soul...

88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Did you like it? Hate it? TELL ME! R&R, and remember, flames are for arsonists!