Tired

This is actually based on something I posted on my Tumblr. Just a little drabble about Rose Weasley. Not J.K. Rowlings.

Sometimes, you get tired.

And what do you think you're doing, girl, because you're the cheerful one.

The one with the never-ending smiles and the laugh that flows like a gushing waterfall.

But at night, you ache inside.

You ache with the weight of your emotions.

Because you worry about your family and about money and about getting good grades.

You worry because your parents have gone through too much and you worry because good god, one day your baby brother is going to be a rock star and how can you compare?

You worry about the fate of the world and about muggle-borns and about whether or not the Sorting Hat was right about placing you in Ravenclaw.

But mostly you worry about your friends.

You worry about Lily, who'll never learn what's good for her, and about Teddy who's going to ruin everything with Victoire.

You worry about Victoire because she's breaking apart at the seams and about Dom because that purple streak in her hair isn't distracting enough to hide the pain in her eyes.

You worry about James because he's not all that he pretends to be and about Fred because he needs to accept that he's not his namesake.

You worry because Scorp's so focused on not being his father or his grandfather that he isn't being himself.

You worry because they all deserve so much more than this.

You worry because you just want to feel safe and you haven't felt that in a long time. Not to be cliché, but in your dreams, you feel his arms around you and you're safe and happy and nothing else matters. You can't help but want that once you're awake.

You worry because you're this close to settling for dating Lorcan and it scares you and you don't want to do that to anyone, but you can't help yourself, can you, baby?

You worry that Ly's got feelings for you, feelings you can never return, no matter how hard you try.

You worry because you and James have always been more than cousins and that's not right, is it?

You worry because Scorp's a womanizer and you can't have a crush on him because Albus does—shh, don't tell—but how can you help yourself? And then you worry because you have feelings for two boys and that's not right either, is it?

You worry because, sure, you've got friends and you're happy and everyone loves you—right?—but it's all just an act, isn't it, darling? Late at night, you wonder if it is. And you don't want to hurt them, because it isn't their fault so you keep going because does it matter if it's a charade or not? You know you care—at least to some extent for some of them. Maybe that's the problem. You care so much, you can't even tell anymore. So you're locking yourself inside and not telling anyone how you really feel and how scared you are, not even Albus and he's your best friend.

Basically, you worry.

And you're sick and tired and you just want something to make the pain go away so you write and you read and you study and you talk because the silence scares you because it lets everything in and it eats you up inside. It lets the distorted thoughts into your mind. And those thoughts scare you. So you try to shut them out long enough to get to sleep so you can wake up and worry some more.