Reticent (h.s fanfic, punk Harry)

Chapter 19

HARRY

At night time when you close your eyes. Your mind becomes a black canvas. Then your thoughts paint all those demons you thought you'd conquered during the day. And it sinks in like a dagger in your heart-life is not meant for happiness and goals.

It takes a special kind of sadness to know that life was meant for sadness and despair. Let there be no light. Let there be no smiles. Let there be no laughs. For life is merely a game to see who can stay alive the longest while the despair and depression eats from the inside, slowly crawling outside to rip your conception of the world to shreds: bearing its vile face to you and you realize everything you'd thought was a lie. Life itself was a lie. And as the real faces appear-you realize it holds a mirror and you see yourself-they show you what you see and behind hides the real kind of sickness they carry around-vile hideous scars. There is no heaven and there is no hell. There is god and there is satan. Two kids sitting under the blazing sun holding magnifying glasses towards us-watching who can run away the fastest. Who can run without getting burned. All they want is freedom. But is that really the answer? We're like puppets; what would we do without our strings holding us up?

Puppets don't want freedom they don't wish to be yanked from the masters. Because once those strings are cut, the puppet lies there, limbs cast on the street unmoving as he stares up into the heavens waiting for the master to return. Freedom is something everyone craves but once given, they either lay there like a corpse without a clue of what to do, or they scramble to cause mayhem. There is nothing in between. Nothing bigger than us can stop our actions. Believing or not-we were naturally stained.

But what does it feel like to believe in something bigger than yourself, to believe that something is controlling you. Do you feel safe? Do you feel loved? Why can I not feel it? Then what does hatred feel like? What is the core of loathing? Is it that feeling I get when he looks at me with discontent and disappointment, or is it that feeling I get when I see the man I don't recognize, staring at me from behind the mirror, asking me what went so wrong. I wonder if a mirror captures all the things that others see in you. Maybe it does and you just lack something in your eyes to see it that way. Maybe it's the layers of the mirror-perhaps it strips away splotches of your beauty.

Why does Anne not see beauty when she looks at the mirror. Why does she cry at her features. Why can't she see what I see. Why was she so upset? Why was Jay upset? Why was Louis upset?

I wonder why he cries at night when he thinks I'm asleep. I wonder why he apologizes to god. What has Louis done? Does god listen. Does he analyze our lives. People are dying. We are killing each other. Humiliating each other. We are stripping the simple name of us Homo sapiens. Why isn't he stopping us. Has he ever stepped in to help. Why is he not here now? It's all up to us. Every man for themselves? Survival of the fittest. Darwin must be laughing with joy from the heavens.

"Why does mum have no hair?" She sometimes asked with genuine confusion. Why didn't Anne have hair? What do I tell a four year old? "Because she doesn't need hair to be beautiful. We must embrace her true beauty. Do you see it Gummy bear?" "I don't need to see it, Harry. I feel it. Mum is gorgeous with or without hair." She was a true gem, and she didn't belong here. She belonged somewhere where the sun shone on her only, the birds sang to her only.

"Harry let me stay here, let me just hide from the world." Anne shouldn't hide anything from the world; the world should cower from her goodness. "I think you should get out. Explore some. See new things." "The world doesn't want to see me. The world doesn't want anything to do with me." Oh Anne, if only I could force the world down to its knees for you.

God was separating a mother from her kids, how did He feel?

"You are quite possibly the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on in my entire life. You gave me life, and now I'm watching you die. I wish I could give you something equally as beautiful. I wish I could give you anything to show you how much you mean to me." I wish I could just give her everyone in this entire world. "This world isn't what it's meant to be. There is nothing good left. Every blade of grass has poison and soon it'll intoxicate the entire garden. Not one seed will grow happily. I want you to know that you have the advantage. You are my special boy. And I want you to be happy. I want you to be your own blade of grass." I couldnt be a blade of grass, I couldn't even be the stem of of a rose. "Poison spreads no matter what. And soon it'll get to me-" I know it's already engulfed me in its claws. I'm stuck. "Then you fight it-you fight it like the boy I know you are. My boy, my wandering boy. One day, maybe I'll be a mother to you, and you'll be able to be a child." I didn't want to be a child-I just wants to be with her, old or young. "You've given me so much. Asking something is useless. I have everything. I just want to be by your side. Hold me, mom. Hold me until your last breath. And I'll hold you until mine." I'll hold until they rip you away from me, until I hold a dead body cocooned in my arms 

"Soon you'll look back at all of this, and maybe you'll have regrets-" there is nothin I would regret when I'm with her. "only for not being with you for every breath you take. You're everything to me. Please, hold me." Just hope me until you leave. Hold me tight. "I'll keep you in my arms for as long as I can hold you, and I'll fight whatever pulls me to just keep you here longer. I just want you to be happy. I want you to have everything you want." All I want is you. "My only happiness is you. All I want is you. I just want you to stay here, but I'd be selfish and you'd hurt. I don't want you to hurt anymore, but I don't want to let go. I just want you to tell me everything will be alright."

There was no time for the outside world. No time for school. No time for Louis. Just Anne and I, laying on her lumpy mattress, holding each other as the sun rises, as the birds start to sing, as cars go back and forth, and as the sun sets. We stay in bed watching the world outside with small eyes, wondering what had brought us here, wondering if anything would have been different if things had been just a little different.