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text | in spacetext no one can see you crying like a toddler.
Who cares if you die?
( feel free to interpret that however you please, denizens of the EXTREMELY POORLY NAMED tranquility! all possible interpretations are acceptable in harry's current state of complete emotional breakdown. he probably doesn't care if any of you die, for instance, and may bitterly resent you for having an actual answer to this question.
who cared when norman died? who really cared. people mourned the man who'd contributed so much, but that man was an idea. an image carefully cultivated. harry knew enough to know better, but even he wouldn't pretend to have known his father, and who's going to care when harry dies? just like norman did.
harry's legacy is just disappointment and isolation. his best friend is his only friend and he's pretty sure they're totally not friends any more, also. everything sucks and he broke a bottle when he got back to his room and he can't be bothered to clean it up, he's just going to sit here and hate all of you, publicly and violently, and
you know, by text, because he looks even shitter than usual. )
( feel free to interpret that however you please, denizens of the EXTREMELY POORLY NAMED tranquility! all possible interpretations are acceptable in harry's current state of complete emotional breakdown. he probably doesn't care if any of you die, for instance, and may bitterly resent you for having an actual answer to this question.
who cared when norman died? who really cared. people mourned the man who'd contributed so much, but that man was an idea. an image carefully cultivated. harry knew enough to know better, but even he wouldn't pretend to have known his father, and who's going to care when harry dies? just like norman did.
harry's legacy is just disappointment and isolation. his best friend is his only friend and he's pretty sure they're totally not friends any more, also. everything sucks and he broke a bottle when he got back to his room and he can't be bothered to clean it up, he's just going to sit here and hate all of you, publicly and violently, and
you know, by text, because he looks even shitter than usual. )
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Shoot for the moon, babe. Or my face, whatever.
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No. I'd leave your face intact so your friends would be able to recognize you. If they don't recognize you, what's the point of the experiment.
But I would split the back of your head open with my axe. I'd try not to get too much brains in your hair. Then I'd cut off your arms and legs and make a question mark out of them. I'm not sadistic, so I wouldn't paint on your face in your own blood or anything like that, but I would definitely leave your eyes open. Arrange it all in the garden, climb a tree, and wait to see if anyone shows up and cries.
Babe.
no subject
( HARRY JESUS CHRIST. )
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Aww. Should I go more slowly next time?
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