GIRL, ALMIGHTY! ━━━ fred weasley.

chapter three ━ the survivor and the grieving.

❛ le survivant et le deuil ❜
❪ the survivor and the grieving. ❫

                     IT NEVER REALLY FLOWED INTO BOLD CURSIVE LETTERS, NOT WITH A ONCE UPON A TIME ATLEAST. Unlike how the world painted a world of overly saturated deceit seeped into sickly saccharine train of words of fabrication scribbled and jolted down as a tale of enchantation that started off with a once upon a time; words abound itself behind skimmed lines of deception.

            It was a silent agreement, between whispers by the crevices as it lingered and rested with the shadows. It was suble at first ― abrupt but subtle, the way their lips expressed and stretched into a thin, stiff and artificial line.

      ( the calm before the storm. )

      Then the subtleness did no longer prolong itself, as the awareness surfaced as it became more vivid by the weeks passed. Behind the cracks on their eyes which were overcasted with murky shadow silhouettes, despite the lack of  life within; it expressed beyond one's mouth limitation. The night terrors that would resurfaces ones they even had the chance to express relief from your thoughts, leading them to insanity to isolate themselves and to segregate from other people ― then it was the person in front of the mirror. A distorted depictment of who they used to be, the dilution of datums into a plague of mendacious dishonestly. It was those little things they used to look pass on until it became too much too handle ― and after all this, it was just then they managed to grasp the situation.

      It was different ― they were different, everything was different; the skies sulked more often than before, carrying it's burden behind it's greying and clouded façade; the faces, they were more than monotonous, but less than a face masked with glee ― well, but of course you wouldn't expect people too move on that fast, but as time passes by, everyone seemed to bring themselves up and try again; but you. As if, everyone moved on ― too slowly or too quickly, no one really knew the concept of time really. And then before you know it, unbeknownst to you, that you're the only one left behind to fall. Fall apart, for you to lonesomely and pathetically pick yourself up again just for you to break down again by just one simple pebble thrown to your paper strengthed walls you isolate yourself behind it, just for you to fall back apart again ― until you'll get sick of it and well, make decisions based off the emotions you've dwelled in for too long, that nothing matters anymore.

      ( ― because you'e put everyone first before yourself and now, now's the time you can finally put yourself first. )

      ( perhaps just this once? )

      And to you, to the stars, that once gave hope, anticipation ― that just turned out to drown you in expectation that you've lost yourself trying to find something that wasn't even yours to find. Now, hid and concealed behind the clouds, dimmed. To you, the caliginous magestic role model that aspired one too many people just for them to be torn apart after realizing that no one was going to come in and be their prince hooked onto a horse basked from purity itself and save them.